


Choosing Wisely

by Yinepuhotep



Category: DC Universe Online, Knights in Tarnished Armor
Genre: Crossover, Multi, Philosophy, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:39:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3185876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yinepuhotep/pseuds/Yinepuhotep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the advent of Banishment Wands, the DSS has begun targeting anyone in Laputa they suspect might be supernatural. Elsie/Geirahod got thrown into the DCUOnline universe. Nobody is happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choosing Wisely

"Ever have one of those days where everything went wrong? Let me tell you about what happened for me today. I had gotten up early to go to the Bazaar and buy some new coils I'd ordered from an Avir manufacturer. I had been working on a design for a new ship, and the Avir coils looked like they'd be just the thing to give the guns a bit more bite.

"The U.S. hadn't tried invading us for a couple months, so I'd figured I had plenty of leisure time for work on a personal project. Yeah, yeah, I know, famous last words, right? There I was, happily examining my new purchases, when a dimensional portal opened in the middle of the Bazaar and an American shock team poured out.

"Being a Valkyrie has some advantages. Like I can prevent anyone from dying, at least long enough for Mike to get to them and heal them up, if they're a little slow diving behind the furnishings and structural members in the Bazaar. And, of course, when I hit the berserk switch, pretty much everyone else, and their bullets, moves like they're wading through iced molasses. Unfortunately energy's another matter entirely. Faster than a speeding bullet is still standing still compared to the speed of light.

"And speaking of "faster than a speeding bullet", let me tell you that face-planting in his chest after you were blasted from behind with one of those damned Banishment spells is _not_ a fun experience. Thanks to the disorientation and the migraine, if I hadn't recognized the logo, I probably would have tried taking him apart when I hit him. As it was, that impact was the last thing I needed to get knocked out.

"I don't know why he decided to dump me in your apartment, instead of taking me to Metropolis General, but I'm grateful. The only thing that bugs me about it is how much you look like my human wife. Yeah, I have to specify that, because I'm married to a dragon, too. They're both wonderful women, but seriously, you look enough like Vicki that I have to stop and remind myself that you aren't her. That reminds me: are you and him married in this universe?"

Lois hit the pause button on her recorder and studied the woman Clark had dropped on her couch a couple hours earlier. Once she'd awakened and Lois had gotten an impossible amount of coffee into her, she'd changed from surly and irritable – perfectly understandable if she'd had a migraine like she'd claimed – to positively voluble. Now she was asking if she and Clark were married. That was just a bit too personal a question for a stranger to be asking, unless she had already put her eye on Clark.

"I'll take it from the look on your face, the answer is no," the woman said. "I hate to say it, but you're lucky. Unless you're supernatural yourself, marrying him would be the last mistake of your life."

"Marrying him would be the last mistake of my life?" Lois asked, "Why do you say that? I know there would be danger involved, given his enemies."

"Not danger," the woman said. "Death. You would die on your wedding night if you married him, and he would probably try to kill himself afterward. Bad plan all around."

"What are you talking about?" Lois asked, glaring at the woman angrily, wondering what she knew – or thought she knew.

"It's simple, really," the woman said. "Every muscle in his body is strong enough to bench-press ocean liners. And every cell in his body is dense and resilient enough to bounce bullets – or punch through flesh like a bullet. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

Lois frowned. What did this have to do with … wait, the woman had said her wedding night would be fatal. Did that mean …? Lois blushed deeply, then went pale as the only logical answer occurred to her.

"That's right," the woman said. "The results would be the same as if someone had shoved a machinegun inside you and emptied a full belt. Not pretty, at all. The only way he could manage it without killing you would be for him to take a dose of kryptonite any time the two of you wanted to get frisky."

"But that would kill him!" Lois gasped. Now she was worried. How _was_ Clark managing to keep something like that from happening?

"Exactly," the woman said. "I suppose he could manage it if he could find some way to shield your apartment against yellow sun radiation, but unless he knows the exact frequencies to block, that's not very likely. Only person likely to know exactly what's needed is the one person he's least likely to trust, since Lex would try to use it as a weapon against him."

"You know about Lex?" Lois asked, doing her best to keep her tone professional, while resolving to ask Clark when they were alone.

"Which one is it in this universe?" the woman asked. "The guy with an IQ too high to chart, or the megalomaniac with the evil megacorporation?"

"An IQ too high to chart?" Lois asked. "Do you mean Brainiac?"

"I'm through," a voice from the woman's wristwatch said. "They're really going for it this time. Sally got Banished, too, and Ben and Eve, and Dad, and ... damn. I'll give you the list later. This is a major push. Dad really needs to do something drastic about them. At least the flares on all of them are still expanding."

"The flare's still expanding?" the woman asked. "Good. That gives us plenty of time, then."

"You're through?" Lois asked, looking from the woman to her watch. "That's a communicator, then?"

"Donal?" the woman laughed. "He'd tell you he's my babysitter. Donal MacManus, meet Lois Lane. We're apparently in the universe where Lex is a CEO, instead of a Mad."

"Wonderful," the watch grumbled. "That means we have to put up with Grim Man and The Boy Scout With The Telephone Pole."

"Pretty much," the woman agreed. "But at least we've confirmed why he has a telephone pole. We need to find that man a Kryptonian of negotiable affections."

"Psst!" the watch hissed. "You're talking about that in front of the woman who loves him, remember?"

"Hell, that means she should be just as eager to get him laid as we are!" the woman argued. "That much repression is bad! Emotionally, mentally, and physically. Why do you think Bruce is such a dick?"

"Bruce is an obsessive-compulsive control freak," the watch replied, "with more personalities than a school picnic."

"Bruce?" Lois asked. "Who are you talking about?"

"Ask Clark," the woman said. "He knows. Anyway, did I introduce myself?"

"No," the watch said.

"Right," the woman said. She smiled and offered Lois her hand. "Hi. I'm Geirahod Odinsdottir. When I'm impersonating a human, I go by the name of Elsie Bowen."

"And you need to stop throwing people's secret IDs around so casually," the watch said. "Not everyone is as public as we are."

"You should listen to … Donal?" Lois said. "Most heroes have secret identities for a reason."

"Yeah," Elsie said, with a shrug. "They're too easy on the criminals. Even Grim Man is too easy on them."

"Grim Man?" Lois asked, a smile teasing at the corners of her mouth as she imagined who the woman could be referring to.

"Yeah," Elsie snorted. "Dresses all in black, wears a mask with ears, broods better than any TV vampire, doesn't let anyone else operate in 'his' city unless they're one of his team, pissed off his first sidekick so much they didn't even talk to each other for years … sound like anyone you've met?"

"Broods better than any TV vampire?" Lois asked, then snorted as she imagined Batman running into Buffy. "You know I'll never be able to take him seriously again, right?"

"Hell, I don't," Elsie said. "At least, as long as I'm not in Gotham I won't. And if I am in Gotham, he's going to discover that the Huntress is not the worst of his worries."

"The Huntress?" Lois asked, giving Elsie a worried look. "But she's barely a vigilante! If Batman didn't keep her reined in, she'd be as bad as the thugs she hunts!"

"Would she?" Elsie asked. "Why is it bad to do unto the thugs as they do unto others? Where I come from, that's the way we do it. We have a much lower crime rate than Metropolis, let alone Gotham. Of course, we also don't have any police, SCU, Science Police, or any other gangs of uniformed thugs to prevent us from protecting ourselves."

"Gangs of uniformed thugs?" Lois asked.

"Yeah," Elsie said. "You know what I'm talking about. You've been threatened by enough generals, supreme leaders, and capos to know that the only difference between the Metropolis Police Department and a junta is one of degree, not of kind."

"It's not like that at all!" Lois protested. "The police are there to protect us!"

"Which is why they're never around when a robbery or mugging takes place," Elsie said, "and Clark – sorry, Superman – has as much work as he does. Where I come from, we recognize that basic truth, and don't try to prevent people from defending themselves when they're attacked. Any of us with extra abilities helps when we can, but people don't rely on us. They don't have to."

"You're talking about vigilante justice!" Lois protested.

"I'm talking about civilization," Elsie said. "We have one law where I come from. Exactly one law. That law is all we need. For those who need a law to justify what they do, it's all the authority they need. For the rest of us, it's a statement of moral imperative."

"A statement of moral imperative," Lois repeated. "What is this law?"

"No person, under any circumstances at all, may initiate force, either directly or indirectly, against any other person," Elsie said. "Because no one may initiate force, any force needed to defend, or retaliate, against the initiator or his proxies, is appropriate and necessary."

"That's your law?" Lois asked. "I don't understand."

"It's simple, really," Elsie said. "If someone tries to mug you, or rape you, or break into your home, you decapitate him. If he bumps you in the market, you shrug it off and assume it was due to the crowd, unless he lifted your wallet when he bumped you, in which case you break his fingers."

"That's barbaric!" Lois said.

"I agree," Elsie said. "Criminals _are_ barbaric. The only way to get through to them is to respond in the language they understand. We have the lowest crime rate on Earth, and the highest level of happiness, because we don't treat people as potential criminals the way every government in existence does, we don't steal from them the way every government in existence does, and we do squash criminals hard enough that most of them only ever commit a single crime – the one that got them squashed."

"The government doesn't treat us as potential criminals!" Lois protested.

"Do you have an ID card?" Elsie asked. "Did you have to pass a drug test, get fingerprinted, or have a background check before you could report on government activities or access any government installations? Do you have to go through a metal detector, x-ray, or search before you can fly, take a train, or go into some buildings? Do cars have large metal plates on them with identifying numbers stamped into them? Those are all actions that the government takes because it suspects you of being a criminal. The fact that you can't drive without that metal ID plate on your car, or you have to go through the search, x-ray, or metal detector every time you enter certain buildings, means that even if you haven't been confirmed as a criminal once, you're still a suspect and have to prove that you're not a criminal every single time you drive or access one of those facilities. You see, to the people who run governments anyone who's not one of them is a potential threat. Everyone who's not one of them might be trying to unseat them from their place of power. So, they have to keep you from unseating them by constantly forcing you to prove that you're not a criminal – and have you ever noticed that the crimes that are most harshly punished and most relentlessly pursued are political crimes, not violations of individual persons?"

"But that's different!" Lois protested reflexively.

"How?" Elsie asked. "Don't worry, I won't demand an answer right now, but if Clark's listening in, I'm awake and I want to know what the major crisis threatening this world is, so I can get busy helping with it. Now that I know where I am, all I want is to go home."

"Where is your home?" Lois asked. "And what does our trouble have to do with your ability to return?"

"It's a part of the Banishment that sent me here," Elsie grumbled. "The people who wrote it created a spell that prevents the victim from returning home until he – or she, obviously – has assisted the people in the target universe with whatever crisis comes closest to threatening the existence of their civilization. The guy the spell was designed to target has been sent to a world where a reptilian queen was attempting to wipe out or reduce to slavery all mammalian species on that world, while at the same time attempting to become one of their local gods, another universe where a fleet of mile-long homicidal robots was attempting to wipe out all organic civilization in the galaxy, another universe where a species that had been overthrown millenia ago was stirring up wars between a number of worlds in order to destabilize them for its return conquest, a universe where Earth was being invaded by aliens that were attempting to exterminate humanity, while at the same time the secret organization that controlled the United Nations was attempting to use those aliens in order to elevate themselves to godhood, and so on. We've lost track of how many times he's been Banished, all because the American government keeps trying to conquer us, and failing."

"The American government?" Lois asked. "This sounds interesting."

"Eh," Elsie shrugged. "I suppose it is if you don't have to live with it. Ever since Fred built Laputa, the U.S. has been trying to overthrow us, because we provide a safe haven for all supernatural beings that are willing to obey our one law. Since merely being a supernatural being is sufficient to earn a death sentence in the U.S., they consider us a blight on the planet. Meanwhile, every alien species in our universe considers us to be the only civilized place on Earth. Well, except the Scylla, but they keep trying to re-conquer the planet, so it's not surprising they object to us."

"What are the Scylla?" Lois asked. The way this woman described her world, it was as if she truly were from another universe. Clark hadn't said where he'd picked her up, so it was, she supposed, remotely possible, but even if it was true, she was dangerous, and keeping her distracted until Clark got back seemed like a good plan.

"Reptilian species," Elsie said. "Related to dragons the same way orcs are related to humans. And about as nice to have as neighbors, too. They ruled the planet, until the other species joined together and overthrew them, twenty or thirty thousand years ago. I'd have to ask Diana if her family journals give an exact date, but it's somewhere during one of those two cycles. Rather than admit defeat, they left the planet and set up shop elsewhere. They've been making life miserable for aliens ever since. Gave Earth a bad name in this part of the galaxy, at least until we blew up a Scylla assault squadron and the Avir picked up on it. Now we've got friends from all over the place. Donal, do you have the JLA's frequencies yet?"

"Ready whenever you are," the watch said.

"Good," Elsie said. "Superman? I'm awake now, and I think I'm making Lois nervous as hell, so if you'd be so kind as to drop by so we –" Superman was there, standing at parade rest, the way he tended to whenever Lois couldn't get him to relax. "– can talk about getting me home … thanks. She's a nice lady, and I don't want to make her any more uncomfortable than I already have. By the way, which name do you prefer? Kal, Superman, or your human name?"

"Superman will do," Superman said. "Are you all right, Miss Lane?"

"I have a lot to think about," Lois said, "but I'm all right. She didn't even threaten me when she woke up. It's all right. She knows about us."

"That would have been rude," Elsie said. "Just because I had the mother of all migraines was no excuse to be mean to you. And I'm sure he'd agree, everyone gets along better when we try to not be rude to each other."

"I would," Superman said. "What universe do you come from, and why are you here?"

"Oh! You weren't listening in, then?" Elsie said, surprised. "Sorry. I assumed you were."

"I'm afraid there's just too much for me to listen to," Superman said, "and I try to leave Lois as much privacy as I can when I'm not home, so unless she had called for help, I wouldn't have been paying attention."

"When you're not home? So you _are_ married?" Elsie asked. "How do you … no, that's _her_ question, not mine. So anyway, here's the Reader's Digest version. I've been Banished to your universe, by a spell that was created as a weapon against the prince of my home nation. I can't go back until I've helped you deal with some crisis that threatens to destroy your civilization, if not your planet."

"In that case, you're here at just the right time," Superman said. "Brainiac is here, with his entire fleet, and is attempting to assimilate the Earth. We've held out as long as we have, only because Lex Luthor, of all people, came back in time with devices we call exobytes. Each exobyte carries a sample of the powers of one of the heroes or villains of his time, and when it injects it into someone in our time, it awakens that person as a hero or villain. As far as we can tell, the contents of the exobyte do not determine anything other than the powers the recipient gets. Whether he or she becomes a hero or villain is strictly their choice."

"Lovely," Elsie grumbled. "Brainiac. It just _had_ to be Brainiac." She looked at Lois and said, "This is a perfect example of why our way is better. If he'd run into one of us Knights back when he shrunk Kandor, you wouldn't be having this problem today. Or, for that matter, any number of other times you encountered him before he acquired this fleet Cla – I mean, Superman – mentioned."

"I can't believe that," Lois said. "You're talking about living in a state of war."

Superman sighed and rubbed his temples. "If you're going to slip like that, maybe you should stick with Kal."

"Isn't that what you have now?" Elsie asked. She looked at Superman. "All right, so where are you coordinating your counterstrikes? And that reminds me. Kara – is she your cousin, or the granddaughter of Arion?"

"If only it were that simple," Superman said. "Counterstrikes require that we have secure operating zones of our own. And which Kara do you mean?"

"Not necessarily," Elsie said. "Aren't there any maquis left alive? Or Mossad? Or, hell, even people who remember stories their Apache grandparents told them? Which Kara? So Supergirl isn't Matrix, then. Gotcha. I meant Power Girl."

"Matrix," Superman said. "There's a name I haven't heard in years. What did you mean by asking if Power Girl was Arion's granddaughter? Who is Arion?"

"Lord High Mage of Atlantis," Elsie said. "In at least one universe, he was Power Girl's grandfather. Not this one, apparently."

"No, not this one," Superman agreed. "Power Girl is a Kryptonian from another Earth. Why did you ask about maquis, Mossad, and Apache?"

"Think about it," Elsie said. "Every one of those groups battled enemies that seemed infinitely more powerful, and either defeated them, or were enough of a threat to them that the more powerful enemy had to deal seriously with them. If Braniac is as powerful as what you've said implies, we need forces like that. We need people who are able to cause him enough discomfort that it will distract him from his primary goal in order to swat at them."

"I can't ask anyone to do anything like that," Superman said. "It would be suicide."

"You don't ask," Elsie said. "You stay out of the way when people volunteer. You don't try to stop them. Some things are worth dying for. It seems to me, not being assimilated is one of those things."

"Listen to her," Lois said. "She's right. I've seen people willing to die for far less than this. I wouldn't be surprised if resistance cells were already springing up, even among people who weren't affected by the exobytes."

"Don't they realize how dangerous that is?" Superman asked, frowning.

"Of course they do," Elsie said. "And they realize that not resisting is more dangerous. You can't protect them. All of you combined can't protect them. Only they can protect themselves. Unless you accept that, Brainiac will win."

"That can't be," Superman protested. "With all the new heroes, there has to be enough."

"Do you try to tell the Science Police that they can't help fight?" Elsie asked.

"Of course not!" Superman said. "It's their duty!"

"And what makes it their duty?" Elsie asked. "Do they have super powers? Are they somehow superior to other humans? What makes them different from anyone else?"

"They're the Science Police!" Superman said.

"So, being thugs _in uniform_ makes them better than other people," Elsie said. "Right. You'll excuse me if I'm not impressed. Where I come from, we _kill_ thugs in uniform. If you'll excuse me, I have a Resistance to find. Or form."

Elsie stood, and it suddenly seemed to Lois as if she blurred, the same way the Flash did when he was putting on a burst of speed. When the blurring faded, another woman was standing where she had been. The new woman was still the same blonde as Elsie had been, but was at least a head taller than Superman, wearing glowing golden chainmail, and carrying a glowing golden spear.

"Don't worry," the woman said, her voice echoing with power. "I'll be in touch. It's not as if I'd trust Lex to care about anything more than his own ambitions." She turned toward the door, then stopped and looked back at Superman. "Oh yes, that reminds me. Where's Tora these days? I'd like to check in with her, see what this universe's version of my family is up to."

"Do you really think I'd trust you enough to tell you that?" Superman asked, his arms crossed on his chest as he attempted to stare her down.

"Not really," the woman said, shrugging, "but you're going to have to, sooner or later, if you want to work with me to save your world."

The woman walked past Superman, brushing him off when he attempted to stop her, as if he were an ordinary human. She stopped at the door and looked back.

"Thanks for the coffee, Lois," the woman said. "Sorry I can't stay longer, but I think I've about outlasted his ability to tolerate our differences in opinion. Don't worry. I'll stay in touch. After all, Radio Free Earth is going to need a voice. Just don't let yourself end up the way Maya did."

Superman vanished and reappeared by the door, just an instant after she had closed it, then walked back, shaking his head and frowning.

"I don't like it," Superman said. "I don't like it at all. She's going to be trouble."

"How was she able to brush you off like that?" Lois asked, worried that something was wrong with him.

"When I touched her, my strength went away," Superman said. "Not the way it does when I'm exposed to kryptonite, but more like there's magic involved. Did she tell you anything between the time she woke up and the time she called me?"

"She claims she's a valkyrie," Lois said, "that she's from another universe, and that in her universe, people are executed just for being supernatural."

"I've seen universes like that," Superman said. "They're not nice places to live."

"Do you think a universe like that could produce someone like her?" Lois asked.

"Maybe," Superman said. "We'll just have to make sure she doesn't hurt anyone while she's here."

 

"Hello, Lois. It's Elsie. Don't worry, I got your email address from the contact page on the Daily Planet's web site. Just thought I'd let you know, the Resistance is coming together as well as these things ever can. I've had to get a little … basic … a couple times – just ask Vicki Vale if you want details. I know the two of you are working together on JLA Watch. Anyway, I know my methods must drive your husband and his friends insane, but I will do what is necessary to save this planet from Brainiac. They can either help, or stay out of my way. Well, my way, and that of the Resistance. By the way, you can tell your husband that he won't have to deal with Lexcorp for a while. Hopefully, not at all, until Brainiac is gone. It took a little … persuasion … but Lex should be out of intensive care in a few months. His Board was much more agreeable."

Lois sat back in her chair and steepled her fingers as she considered the message. It had come in as an ordinary email, but the contents were both hopeful and disturbing. On the one hand, it was reassuring that Elsie didn't seem to be hostile toward her. On the other hand, putting Lex Luthor into intensive care – for months – implied that she was on the same power level as Superman, and that she didn't have his respect for human life. Of course, she'd said as much during their initial meeting, less than a month before, but this pretty much confirmed it. She picked up her phone and hit the button she had Vicki's number stored in.

"Vicki, it's Lois," Lois said when the phone went to voice mail. "I'm working on a story about the Resistance, and wanted to find out if you've been hearing anything in Gotham. Give me a call."

"No need," Vicki said, picking up her phone. "I was thinking about calling you. Things have been a little strange here the last couple weeks."

"How so?" Lois asked.

"Someone killed the Joker," Vicki said. "His head was impaled on a stake in front of Amusement Mile. Harley's either vanished or is laying low. And all of Joker's psychopaths are focusing their entire attention on Brainiac. The weird thing is that they're not the only ones. The Falcones, Two-Face's mob, all of them, they're ignoring their usual targets in favor of attacking Brainiac's forces. They're not even fighting with Batman or his people. I've seen it myself, Lois, and it's spooky. When one of Batman's people shows up, the thugs ignore them unless the Bats attack them, and then they only fight defensively, until they can escape."

"And this has been going on for a couple weeks?" Lois asked.

"Things started getting quiet a little less than three weeks ago," Vicki said. "Then Joker's head turned up on a stake, and the other mobs started joining Joker's mob in fighting Brainiac. First it was the Falcones – no surprise there, the Joker was their big ace, so when he died, they lost most of their muscle – then it was the Penguin, and the Mad Hatter's gang, what was left of Bane's mob after Killer Croc was done with Bane, Mr. Freeze, and then this morning, Two-Face was found in front of SCU Headquarters." Vicki's voice was shaking, and she paused for several breaths. "I've never seen anything like it outside of history books, and I wish I hadn't seen it this time."

"What was it?" Lois asked, worried about what could have shaken Vicki so badly.

"He was impaled," Vicki whispered. "Just like in all the stories about Vlad the Impaler. What kind of monster would do something like that?"

"And how could they do it in front of the SCU, without being caught?" Lois asked.

"According to the security cameras," Vicki said, "it was a blonde with a bust bigger than Power Girl's, in glowing golden armor. She carried Two-Face on a winged horse, landed, set the stake up in front of SCU Headquarters, then flew away. It was like she didn't care if she were seen."

"She probably didn't," Lois said. "Tell me, how tall did she look?"

"Given how she was handling Harvey?" Vicki said, "At least seven feet, maybe eight."

"Congratulations," Lois said. "You've seen the leader of the Resistance."

"The Resistance?" Vicki asked. "You mean, it's real?"

"Real," Lois said, "and apparently using Gotham's criminals as its soldiers."

"That's so …," Vicki started, then took a deep breath. "If not for what I saw this morning...."

"Yeah, I know," Lois said. "Trust me, though, it could be worse. What's the crime rate been like the last couple weeks?"

"Almost non-existent," Vicki said. "It's like the professional crooks are so busy fighting Brainiac, the only ones left to commit crimes are the amateurs."

"I thought so," Lois said. "Given what you said, that's probably exactly what's happening. Think you can get an interview with the Penguin?"

"That shouldn't be hard," Vicki said. "What do you have in mind?"

Lois sat back and thought for a moment, then smiled. With Vicki working the story from Gotham, and her working it from Metropolis, they could end up with something that would make JLA Watch! the voice of humanity. It might just be enough to turn around the increasing atmosphere of despair she'd been noticing. Clark may believe that Superman and the JLA were Earth's protectors, but even with the infusion of new heroes since the invasion, there just weren't enough to save Earth. Not without the efforts of every ordinary person who was able to fight. People could sense it, but without someone to rally around, they had no reason to hope.

"We're going to create a hero," Lois said. "Not the kind we're used to. We're going to create a wartime hero, like Audie Murphy or Sgt. Rock. Ever hear of the Devil's Brigade? You've got it, right there in Gotham."

"But, that woman!" Vicki protested.

"The Devil's Brigade needs a devil, right?" Lois said. "Who better than the woman who united the gangs of Gotham against Brainiac?"

"I don't know, Lois," Vicki said. "I'm not … hold on a moment." Lois detested Gotham Gazette's hold music. Luckily, it lasted less than a minute before Vicki was back. "You're not going to believe this, Lois."

"Vicki, you sound unsettled," Lois said.

"A girl I met while doing a feature on trafficking in Gotham just delivered a message," Vicki said. "It's from Catwoman. She wants to meet me … in Metropolis! She wants you there, too. She suggested a place called Hot Lips. Is it what I think it is?"

"If you think it's a strip club, you're right," Lois said. "When does she want to meet us?"

"Tonight," Vicki said. "There's no time given."

"It'll do," Lois said. "Can you make the train?"

"I'm walking out of my office right now," Vicki said. "I have about twenty minutes to get to the station."

"So you'll be here about five," Lois said. "I'll be waiting at the station. If we're lucky getting a cab, that should give us just about enough time to make it to Hot Lips before their first show."

"Should I be bothered that you know that place's show schedule?" Vicki asked.

"You know how undercover work goes," Lois said.

 

Hot Lips was a dive. A basement club, with a single stage in the middle and three booths for table dances, it only stayed open due to regular donations to a rotating roster of Metropolis PD officers, and, Lois was certain, but had been unable to prove, at least one person in the DA's office. As far as Lois was concerned, it was a prime exhibit in the case that Gotham didn't hold a monopoly on official corruption.

Lois led Vicki down the stairs and stopped in front of the bouncer, a burly man with blue eyes and a blond crew cut. He levered himself off his stool, looked Lois and Vicki over, then shook his head.

"You sure you want to come back here, Miss Lane?" the bouncer asked.

"I'm invited, Bruno," Lois said.

"They're with me, Bruno," a woman with short dark hair, wearing a dark trench coat, said.

"If you say so, Miss Kyle," Bruno said, "but the girls are all really mad at her."

"I don't blame them," Miss Kyle said, "but they know I won't let her make trouble while she's here. Isn't that right, Miss Lane?" She turned her attention to Vicki and added, "Just be thankful they don't read the Gotham Gazette, Miss Vale, or they'd be just as angry with you as they are with Miss Lane. Shall we proceed?"

Lois and Vicki glanced at each other, shrugged, and followed Miss Kyle. Why she'd chosen to meet them at this club, Lois didn't know, and she still didn't understand why the women this place exploited were angry with her – and had been since her series on the Metropolis sex trade had been published – but she wasn't going to let bad feelings on the part of those women she'd been trying to help stop her.

All the way across the club, Lois could feel the eyes of every person in the room following her. Miss Kyle led them to the manager's office, closed the door behind them, then dropped into the manager's chair and propped her feet on the desk.

"Take a seat, ladies," Miss Kyle said. She gave Lois a cold smile. "You never did manage to trace the ownership of this place, did you, Miss Lane? I'll take that as praise for my financial advisors. I'll have to pass it on the next time I meet with them."

"Are you trying to say that you own this club?" Lois asked.

"Not trying," Miss Kyle said. "I do own this club. And several others like it, across several cities. The Kit-Kat Klub in Gotham, for instance. Oh, the girls there were ready to lynch you when your series was published, Miss Vale. Luckily, none of them are violent women, and I was able to convince them that the best revenge is living well. Speaking of living well, did you know that Taffy's daughter just got her law degree, paid for by her mother? Or that Rosalinda's son is well on his way to developing the usual neurosurgeon delusions of godhood, also paid for by his mother? Not that little bits of reality like that make a damned bit of difference when placed against your grand narrative of exploitation and trafficking." Miss Kyle spat, her tone one of disgust and disdain. "If either one of you were the reporters your reputations claim, you would have asked for our help to guide you to the real exploiters and the real traffickers. But, no, you just had to pick on easy targets, the only women in both cities who do what they do because they want to, because they enjoy their work, because they are proud of who and what they are. I don't know why She wants you two as her spokeswomen, but She does. So before She gets to you with her story, let me tell you about her from where I'm sitting."

Lois stared at Miss Kyle while she worked through the bits of information she'd just received. She didn't know who Taffy was, but she remembered Rosalinda. She was one of the most popular dancers at Hot Lips, a perfect example of a woman whose life had degenerated into a perpetual cycle of self-degradation and exploitation as a stripper. She had never been able to prove that Rosalinda's dancing tips were supplemented with prostitution money, but there was no possible way she could have earned enough money to send her son through medical school as a stripper. Even with the strict no-drugs rule at Hot Lips – and Lois had witnessed one woman given the choice of going into rehab or being fired when she was caught with a baggie of powder – Lois knew that the only way a woman could endure the degradation of exposing herself to strangers the way these strippers did was for her to stay high enough that she didn't care, so obviously the women had to be getting high before they got there, and no drug addict in the world was able to save up that kind of money. Obviously, Miss Kyle had to be lying.

"You know," Miss Kyle said, "if it weren't for the fact that these are my girls, and I swore I would protect them no matter what, I'd think the mental gymnastics the two of you are indulging in were funny. Right now, though, there's much bigger fish to fry than the idiotic preconceptions of a couple rich girls who never had to deal with reality before. I brought you here to tell you about Her. The woman who killed the Joker and Two-Face. The woman who's turned the gangs of Gotham into her own personal anti-Brainiac army."

"You know her?" Vicki asked.

"Not really," Miss Kyle said. "I'm not sure anyone knows her. She just swooped into Gotham three weeks ago and started turning things upside down. Batman has been so busy trying to keep the flood of new heroes under control that she slipped through without anyone catching her. The first any of us knew she was in town, she'd walked into the Iceberg Lounge and announced that everyone there was now working for her. Needless to say, they all thought it was a joke."

 

Geirahod stood in the middle of the dance floor in the Iceberg Lounge and nodded. Yes, this would serve quite nicely. Most of Gotham's lowlife scum operated from this place, which meant that organizing them would be much easier. The few who didn't use this place as their base would be that much easier to hunt down. She sent a signal to the sealing devices she'd attached to the doors when she'd made her way through the place, finding every exit, and the devices spot-welded the doors shut. Now that no one could escape, she walked up to the band leader and tapped his shoulder.

"Excuse me, but I'll need your microphone and a drumroll, please," Geirahod said. "You know, the kind of drumroll you use to get attention from the club for an important announcement."

The band leader shrugged and nodded to his drummer, who began a drumroll, while Geirahod took the mic and checked it for boobytraps. The drumroll went on for nearly a minute, before it ended with a crescendo of cymbals.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Geirahod said. "Since I'm sure you all know how these things go, I'll save you the trouble of checking, and tell you in advance that I've welded the doors closed. Yes, Mr. Cobblepot, even your emergency exit. Don't worry. I'm not here to hold you for ransom, blackmail you, announce some plot to take over Gotham or the planet, or anything similar. I'm here to organize you.

"You may have noticed those strange alien spaceships in the sky, and the buildings that are covered with force fields? Well, those are the work of an invading fleet that makes all your petty squabbles, with each other and with the Bat, a threat to your existence. What good is fighting over who controls drug trafficking in Gotham, when that alien up there plans to suck you up into one of his spaceships and reduce you to a file in his computers? Who cares whether or not you kill the Bat, when that alien up there plans to suck you up and reduce you to a computer file?

"You think the heroes are going to stop him? You think the heroes _can_ stop him? Have you noticed how well the heroes have been at stopping him so far? In case you hadn't noticed, the heroes haven't been doing that great a job. Hell, in Metropolis, Lex Luthor has been doing as good a job as Superman. Think about that for a minute. That arrogant megalomaniac, who's probably crossed everyone here at one point or another, is doing just as good a job of stopping the aliens as Superman.

"So I ask you, what's stopping us from taking out those aliens? Is it their weapons? How are their weapons any more terrifying than anything the heroes have been using for years? Is it their forces? Every one of you has as many thugs at your command, if not more. Is it because you're too busy squabbling with each other for your piece of the Gotham pie? Well, that stops tonight. As of tonight, you are all working for me, and we are going to kick that alien's ass back where it came from. Of course, we'll strip the cases of his robots for everything valuable, and strip his ships down to their bare hulls, before we let him escape – if we don't just kill him – but starting tonight, every one of you answers to me, and we are focused on one thing, and one thing only: destroying that alien."

The Joker laughed, and Geirahod heard why he was reputed to have a creepy laugh. It definitely spoke of a mind that was so far around the bend it made 'insane' seem like a mild hiccup by comparison. As he laughed, he began to clap, slow and sharp, a mockery of applause.

"Bravo, bravo," the Joker said. "A truly remarkable performance! And what, pray tell, will you do for an encore, after all these nice people here have carved you into pieces and distributed your parts among themselves?"

"That's a good question," Geirahod said. She manifested her spear and hurled it through the Joker's chest. "Does anyone else want to find out?"

"Mistah J!" Harley Quinn shrieked, and caught the Joker as he fell to the floor, coughing up pink froth.

"Harley," the Joker managed to get out, before his eyes rolled up.

Harley rose to her feet, a murderous rage visibly sweeping over her. She grabbed the table she and the Joker had been sitting at, and swung it as if it weighed no more than a baseball bat.

"You killed Puddin'!" Harley screamed, while charging Geirahod and wildly swinging the table.

Geirahod manifested a sword and cut the table in half, then drove the pommel into the back of Harley's head. Harley fell, face-first, at her feet.

"Anyone else?" Geirahod asked. When no one moved or spoke up, she nodded. "Good. Now. Mr. Falcone, will there be any trouble with your people?"

"None," a man, with slicked blond hair and scars on one cheek, said.

"Good," Geirahod said. "You're taking over the Joker's mob. If you have any trouble, let me know. I'll take care of it. Use them as shock troops. Croc. You're freelance. Once you've broken Bane's back, use his boys to tear apart any aliens you see. Anything that looks valuable, you bring back here. I'm sure Mr. Cobblepot's connections can get us a nice return on them. Two-Face. Your people work with the Falcones to map out the enemy's distribution and forces. I want to know everything there is to know about them."

"The coin says you're the boss," Two-face said. "For now."

Geirahod walked over to the Joker's body, making her spear vanish, and used her sword to cut off his head. That done, she sent a signal to her sealing devices, and they cut through the welds they had applied to the doors earlier. She slung Harley over one shoulder and walked out of the club, carrying the Joker's head with her other hand. By the time anyone made it to the doors, she was gone.

 

"That was the first any of us saw of her," Miss Kyle said. "Since then, she's been at the head of every major assault on Brainiac's forces, from breaking his attempt to capture civilians near the freight yards, to shelling Chinatown and Old Gotham from random locations to keep his forces too occupied to spread out. Every so often, she'll go back to the Iceberg, mostly to check up on the bosses and make sure they're following her orders. That's when she killed Two-Face."

 

Geirahod walked into the Iceberg Lounge. Feeling something wasn't right when she didn't see the usual bouncers by the doors, she shifted into berserk and dodged a clumsy attempt by one of Two-Face's thugs to knock her out. When the lights came up, shining from all sides as if they were supposed to blind her, she focused on Two-Face.

"Is this really how you want to play it?" Geirahod asked. "You must know by now this isn't going to work."

"You're just a woman in a fancy suit of armor," Two-Face said. "I've followed you until now, because the coin said I should. But who are you to lead us all? What gives you the right to take command?"

"That same right any of you would claim if you had the balls," Geirahod said, her voice cold enough to chill even Mr. Freeze. "Power. I'm the one who's strong enough to lead you. You want to test that strength?"

"This isn't a test," Two-Face said. "This is an execution."

"If that's the way you want it," Geirahod said. When the thugs began shooting, she ducked under their fire, moved behind Two-Face, and caught him by both arms. Her movements were quick enough that the thugs ended up shooting each other before they were able to stop. Once she had pulled Two Face's arms behind his back, she hogtied him and looked around the club, noting that all the other mobs had representatives attending, but none of their leaders, probably at Two-Face's insistence. "All of you. Follow me to the roof. I want you to witness this and report it back to your leaders."

Geirahod carried Two-Face to the roof, where an eight-foot tall sharpened stake waited, already mounted and braced on a movable base, with a second pole set up with temporary braces, a foot or two away from the stake. She dumped Two-Face on the roof and shoved a tub of lard down over the point while waiting for all the witnesses to arrive.

"A friend of mine had a unique method of dealing with traitors, when he ruled his own land," Geirahod said, once all the witnesses were assembled. "Anyone who took bribes, corrupted his office in any way, or acted against him, was executed, in a way that was certain to get the attention of everyone witnessing it."

She picked up Two-Face and lowered him onto the point of the stake, making sure it lined up with his rectum so that his weight would drive it into him. As soon as the stake began to penetrate, Two-Face began squirming and shouting with outrage. After he had sunk a foot or so onto the stake, Geirahod undid his hog tie and walked away, while Two-Face clutched at the pole in front of himself, as if he could somehow pull himself off the stake if he just held on tightly enough.

"The worst part about this form of execution is that it can take a very long time," Geirahod said. "How long depends entirely on how long the condemned is able to hold on to that pole and prevent gravity from doing its work. If you all want to stay around until he's dead, you're welcome to. I personally wouldn't, but I have to make sure he gets what's coming to him, so I have to stay. Of course, that means no raids tonight, so I suppose that's a bright side."

It was clear that very few of the witnesses considered there was a bright side. Every one of them, including Geirahod, ended up vomiting at least once over the next few hours. Once Two-Face was well and truly dead, with the point of the stake protruding from his mouth, Geirahod removed the pole from its place in front of the stake, hoisted Two-Face, stake and all, in her arms, and whistled for her horse. She had to arrange Two-Face the way she would a spear, before he was clear of the horse's wings, but once that was done, she flew off with him, to deliver him the way she had the Joker's head.

 

"Of course, now I know she deposited him in front of the SCU," Miss Kyle said. "Rather ironic, given that several members of the SCU are on the payroll of the Falcones, and probably other groups as well."

"Rather ironic?" Lois asked.

"Given that she said the way she killed him was how she said her friend dealt with traitors?" Miss Kyle pointed out. "It makes me think she was sending a message to the SCU as well as the mobs." She studied Lois and Vicki for a few moments, then asked, "So, will the two of you do any better when dealing with Her than you did when dealing with my girls? Or are you going to let your prejudices blind you just as thoroughly as you did then?"

"Let our prejudices blind us?" Vicki demanded angrily, just a moment before Lois could get the same words out.

"That's right," Miss Kyle said. "Why else would you not give my girls the basic level of respect you'd give any adult human being? Why else would you write about them as if they're incompetent children who need to be protected from themselves? Even pimps," her face twisted with disgust, as if even the word were foul, "don't insult them like that. But the two of you, from your lofty perches in the media, make it clear to your audiences that you know better than they do how to live their own lives. You know better than they do what are appropriate choices for them to make. You know better than they do what is and is not acceptable for them to do with their own bodies. Hell, the only difference between the two of you and a pimp is that the pimp is honest about what he wants out of a woman. You two cloak it in high-sounding moralizing."

"Are you quite through?" Lois asked through gritted teeth.

"Oh, quite," Miss Kyle said. "I doubt either one of you has enough human decency to take in what I've said, so I suggest you use the back door on your way out. That way the girls won't get a chance to show you how grateful they are for your so-called 'reporting'."

Lois and Vicki stood, and Lois led the way, back through club toward the front door. Everything came to a stop when they walked into the main room. Every person in the place watched them, while the dancers, bartenders, and waitresses all turned their backs on them, like Amish turning their backs on someone shunned. They were almost at the door when one of the dancers caught Lois's arm. Lois turned and saw Rosalinda, who glared at her with tears in her eyes.

"None of us will ever forgive you for the lies you wrote about us," Rosalinda hissed, her voice shaking. "Miss Kyle may believe that the best revenge is living well, but so is telling everyone what a filthy liar you are. How someone as honest and good as Superman can tolerate a dishonest, filthy, lying, backstabbing cheat like you, I don't know, but you should stay away from here. Far away. It would be best for everyone concerned."

"I was only trying to help," Lois protested.

"You never bothered to ask if we wanted, or needed, help," Rosalinda hissed. "You came in here with your ideas of what we wanted and needed, and never bothered to learn if any of your ideas had anything to do with _us_. You didn't even bother to find out what effect your stories had on us. If not for Miss Kyle, your stories would have ruined us all! As it was, your stories only managed to destroy Inge's life, before Miss Kyle stopped things. So we have plenty of reason to hate you and everything you represent."

Lois stopped and turned back toward Rosalinda. "What do you mean, 'destroy Inge's life'? What happened to Inge?"

Rosalinda clenched her fists and glared at Lois, shaking with rage, unable to speak.

"Thanks to your series," Miss Kyle said from the shadows, "some 'fine upstanding gentlemen' decided to pay a visit to the club and enjoy the attention of these 'degraded' women. Whether they wanted it or not. Inge thought she could keep them occupied long enough for the rest to escape. Luckily, Bruno was able to hit the panic button before they knocked him out. When I got here, the girls were hiding in their panic room, while the 'fine upstanding gentlemen' were using Inge to vent their frustration at not being able to have the rest. Of course, by the time I got here, they'd had her so many times that there wasn't much left. She's staying at a nice private institution in the country. I wouldn't trust Metropolis General to properly care for her, given that she's likely to be there for a very long time, and given the names on these." Miss Kyle dropped a stack of drivers licenses in Lois' hands. "I kept enough to ensure that they'll never be welcome at any club I own, no matter what city they go to. They'll also be unwelcome at any club owned by any friends. Maybe you recognize them?"

Lois shuffled through the stack of licenses, her shock and disgust growing with each face and name. These men were a group of the most well-respected men in Metropolis, who had all been attacked about a year earlier, not long after her series had been published. Superman had tried to investigate, but none of them had been willing to cooperate, which had stopped him cold.

"I take it from the look on your face that you recognize them," Miss Kyle said. "I wonder what their response would be if you told them that I'd mentioned meeting them. Don't you?"

_"As a matter of fact, I do,"_ Lois thought. "Why didn't the police do anything?"

"The police?" Miss Kyle laughed bitterly. "The only time the police set foot in here is when they come to collect their protection money. You know as well as I do that Bruno's panic button goes to the local precinct. I was in Gotham when I got the call. No one ever bothered to come from the local precinct. _No one._ I'd bet good money that there's not even a record of them receiving the call. That's the way life is for people in our level of society. I was starting to think She might be someone we could rely on for help, but we _don't want_ anyone that brutal. We have enough trouble with your level of society as it is. If She started turning her attention from Brainiac to people like _them_ , it would bring a whole new world of trouble onto us. Trouble we don't need."

"Where is Inge?" Lois asked. "How bad is she?"

"Not that you care," Miss Kyle said sourly, "but you won't be satisfied I've told you the truth until you see her for yourself, will you? Here." She handed Lois a card, for a clinic she'd never heard of, which meant it very likely had no connections of any kind to anyone in Metropolis society. "Visiting hours are by appointment only, and you won't get an appointment unless I clear it with them. They specialize in cases like this."

"Believe what you want," Lois said. "I _do_ care. That's why I wrote what I did."

"If you _really_ cared, you'd have asked _us_ what's important to us," Rosalinda snarled, "and _listened_ when we told you! Now thanks to you and your 'caring', Inge would be better off dead!"

"It's all right, Rosa," Miss Kyle said gently, moving between Lois and the enraged woman and taking her in a comforting embrace. "Miss Lane and Miss Vale were just leaving. You'll never have to see either of them again."

She glanced over her shoulder at Bruno, who nodded and escorted Lois and Vicki out of the club.

 

"I've seen that look before, Clark," Lois said. "When I was interviewing rape victims, they had that look whenever I asked a question that brought their attacker to mind. And she was looking at _me_ that way! I don't understand! I'm not the one who hurt Inge. I was only trying to help them when I wrote that series! I even fact-checked it with organizations that specialize in helping women who are being exploited, and they all agreed that it was important and necessary."

"I don't know, Lois," Clark said. "I've tried to steer clear of those topics, because I've always felt I'm not in any position to speak with any degree of authority on them. I wonder, though, do you still have your tapes and notes?"

"You know me," Lois said. "I always keep my notes. I've had to rent a warehouse just to hold all my old files."

"It might be worth reviewing your files, then," Clark suggested, "and compare what you have filed away with what Catwoman and this other woman – Rosalinda? – told you while you were there this evening. When do you plan to check this clinic?"

"In a day or two," Lois said. "First I have to verify that it exists, and that it's licensed. Then I have to make an appointment and wait for them to contact Catwoman to authorize it, assuming what she told me is true."

"We both know that when people speak in anger, they tell you what they believe is true," Clark said. "Given that you said she was angry when she spoke with you, I would have to assume that she believes it's true, even if it isn't. What about the men she said were responsible for the assault on – Inge, you said her name was?"

"You don't have to try so hard, Clark," Lois said, giving him a tired smile. "I know you have a photographic memory, remember?" She picked up her purse, opened an inner compartment, and extracted the stack of IDs. "These are the men Catwoman said she caught assaulting Inge. Notice anything about them?"

Clark looked over the IDs and let out a soft whistle while his eyebrows climbed toward his forehead. "Aside from being some of the most respected men in Metropolis, these men all claimed to have been individually attacked over the same weekend about a year ago. I remember that none of them would give any details about their attacks, though. They all claimed the trauma had caused them to lose the memory of how they had been attacked."

"I wouldn't be surprised if Catwoman kept the security camera footage," Lois said, "just in case any of them try to make trouble for her or her … employees."

"What disturbs me is that she is supposed to be working with Batman," Clark said, "yet she not only continues to operate a chain of businesses like this, but doesn't bother to report an assault like this to the police, if it happened? Something isn't right about this."

"I don't know," Lois said. "There's something about this that just isn't right. I just wish I knew enough to know what it is. To begin with, unless someone tampered with it, their panic button would have set off an alarm at the police station, so if it's true that no police responded, either someone tampered with their panic button, or the police chose to ignore it."

"That's a disturbing thought," Clark said. "If the police pick and choose who they're going to protect, they give people a legitimate reason to distrust them, and to believe that the law only protects certain people."

"Which is just what Catwoman claimed," Lois said. "She said that the police not responding to the panic button is a way of life for people in her level of society. She didn't even sound angry when she said it, just matter-of-fact. That was why she told me about Geirahod killing the Joker and Two-Face, too. She said she'd hoped Geirahod would be someone who would help them, but that they didn't want anyone that brutal, because it would cause them more trouble from people in our level of society."

"Not that it would cause them more trouble from the police?" Clark asked. "That's interesting."

"There's not much more trouble they could get from the police," Lois said, "without it becoming open slaughter on the part of the police. When I was working on the series, I went undercover at that club, so I got to see how the police operate with people like them. I'm not sure now, how to describe the money I saw them paying the police. At the time, I saw it as bribes, but tonight, Catwoman referred to it as protection money."

"Do you think she was trying to spin it?" Clark asked.

"No," Lois said. "She was too matter-of-fact about it. It was like she was talking about paying off any mob. This one just carries badges. I'd always thought that was how the police in Gotham and Blüdhaven operated, not here in Metropolis." She closed her eyes and leaned back, working through the information she could remember, adding what she'd gained from Catwoman. When she opened her eyes, she looked at Clark with a tired expression. "She's right. Where her people live, it might as well be Santa Prisca. We spend so much time chasing after cosmic menaces, we've let things turn to mud in our own city."

"I doubt it's as recent as that," Clark said, then rubbed his temples. "There's also the question of how deep it goes. Is it just a few crooked officers, is it a single precinct, or does it go further?"

"We're going to need someone who can get inside," Lois said. "Someone who knows police procedure and can act convincingly enough to follow this wherever it leads."

"The only ones I know who can do that are Batman and J'onn," Clark said. "If you're sure you want to follow this right now, I'll talk to them and find out if either is able to help."

"I'm sure," Lois said. "What good is defeating Brainiac if the police are going to victimize people when he's gone?"

"They'll at least be alive," Clark pointed out.

"There are worse things than being dead," Lois said. "You didn't see – and hear – Rosalinda. Whatever actually happened to Inge, Rosalinda is convinced she'd be better off dead. If what Catwoman hinted at is true, she might actually be better off."

"That's something I never thought I'd hear you say," Clark said. "Why do you say that?"

"Being dead inside, while your body goes on living, is hardly living at all," Lois said. "If what Catwoman said is true, that's where Inge is. That's what those 'fine upstanding gentlemen' did to her."

 

Lois closed and locked her apartment door and hung her coat on the tree just inside, after shaking the rain off. She started across the living room, then stopped still when she saw a figure on the balcony. She checked her watch, saw that Clark wasn't due home for some time yet, and turned the lights off, to give herself a better chance of seeing who was out there, without being seen herself.

"You realize," Elsie – no, the other one, Geirahod – said, her voice echoing through the apartment, "that anyone who's able to get out here without going through your apartment is very likely to have something that makes it possible for them to see you with your lights out, right?"

Lois pressed the call button on her watch, while walking slowly toward the balcony. Geirahod was relaxed in one of her loungers, as if she had nothing better to do than sit on Lois' balcony, watching the rain. She was holding a mug in one hand, and had an ancient wooden keg sitting on the table between the two loungers. The smell of something sweet and alcoholic filled the air..

"Want some?" Geirahod asked, gesturing toward the keg. "Might as well. I can't get drunk enough to empty my mind, no matter how much of this I drink, and while it's the best mead you'll ever get, there's no mead in any world that compares to the beer at Herzwesten."

"You can't get drunk enough to empty your mind?" Lois asked, while moving so that she kept Geirahod in her direct view and kept the space between her and the railing clear for when Superman arrived. "What do you mean?"

"I keep wondering," Geirahod said, "did the guys who shot Eddie Slovik have trouble sleeping afterward? Or the ones who threw the switch on John Brown or Herb Haupt?" She took a swallow from her mug and let out a heavy sigh. "Knowing the way people are, they probably rejected any guilt by claiming that it wasn't their choice, that they were just doing their jobs. I can't do that."

"Who are you talking about?" Lois asked. She took a chair from the patio table and turned it so she could sit while watching.

"Not a student of history, eh?" Geirahod asked. "Eddie Slovik was executed for desertion during World War 2. Brown and Haupt were both executed for treason."

"And you're comparing what you did to the people who pulled the trigger or threw the switch on them?" Lois asked. "I fail to see that they're comparable. In those cases, the executioners did what was ordered by a court, right?"

"A _military_ court," Geirahod said, "but a court nonetheless. Which makes what they did worse. They did not personally witness the alleged crimes for which they were killing their victims. They simply trusted that someone else had, and that someone else had made the right decision when ordering the killings." She looked into her mug, then took another drink. "I know I did what I had to do, but it doesn't make the way it went down any easier to live with. I just hope those idiots at the SCU got the message as clearly as my own gorillas did."

"You were trying to send a message?" Lois asked. "I've heard that might have been your intent, both in the way you killed Two-Face and in where you delivered his body. What message were you trying to send?"

"We're at war," Geirahod said. "Your people don't seem to be willing to accept it, and I had to beat the realization into those thugs in Gotham before they got it, but they finally got it. For the most part, anyway. When you're at war, you can't afford to have your own people stabbing you in the back. If they're not helping you fight the enemy, they need to stay off the field entirely. Two-Face agreed to follow my lead. Then he decided to try to kill me and take over, probably to use the army I had already built against Brainiac as his own criminal empire. Given the kind of people that make up that army, I had to make a statement that none of them could mistake, no matter how hard they might try."

"All right," Lois said slowly. "Assuming that's the case, why did you deliver Two-Face to the SCU?"

"Once the thugs got the message, I thought I might try to send a message to GCPD, since I know all the details of who's on whose payroll," Geirahod said. "It was an attempt to tell them that they need to stop betraying their own people. Regardless of what I think of thugs in uniform, traitors are worse. And cops who are on a gang's payroll are traitors. Cops who charge protection aren't traitors: they're just more proof that the police are nothing but a gang with badges."

"You really have a low opinion of the police," Lois said.

"Of course I do," Geirahod said. "Donal, show her the news report on Alex's family."

A light shone from Geirahod's watch, and a rectangular area of the glass wall between the balcony and living room lit up. The familiar CNN ticker streamed across the bottom of the screen, while the majority of the display was a city street, with armored vehicles like the SCU used, all parked in front of a burning tenement with a bodega on the ground floor. Peter Arnett was speaking over the sound of gunfire and crackling flames.

"According to the Department of State Security," Arnett said, "the inhabitants of this building are a family of sorcerers, who have fortified it extensively. As we go into the third hour of the siege, not a single gunshot has come from the building, while the DSS has been pouring massive amounts of gunfire into it. The fire you see has been spreading for over fifteen minutes, and... can you get that, Bob? The fire department is arriving now."

The camera swung around to show a full fire company coming down the street, to be met by men in uniform. The leader of the fire company argued briefly, until one of the men in uniform shot him. The rest of the firemen raised their hands and backed away, leaving the dead firefighter on the ground.

"It appears the DSS intends to burn the occupants of the Cooper tenement out," Arnett said, as the camera swung back to cover the burning building. A truck drove closer to the building, and a nozzle mounted on top like a fireboat's water cannon aimed at the building, then fired a stream of liquid into the fire. As soon as the liquid hit the building, the fire flared up, hot enough to consume it completely within just a few minutes.

"Clearly, the DSS has no intention of taking any members of the Cooper family alive," Arnett said, after watching the fire consume the building, "which is not surprising, given their claim that the Coopers are all sorcerers."

"Los DSS son mentirosos!" a passing woman yelled. "Los Coopers son buena gente! No sabrían hechicería si entraron en su tienda llevando una bandera. Sólo están asesinando a ellos porque los Cooper son los dirigentes del este barrio."

Arnett glanced around, then gestured the woman over. As she approached, the woman adjusted her shawl to hide her face.

"Buenas noches," Arnett said. "Soy Peter Arnett, de CNN. ¿Te gustaría un traductor para nuestra audiencia?"

"No," the woman said. "Contrary to what your rich gringos think, I speak English as well as any of you."

"You were saying that the DSS lied about the Coopers," Arnett said. "Did you know them well?"

"I should say so," the woman said. "The Coopers have lived here for as long as this neighborhood has existed. Maria's bodega was the only place we could get many of the things we needed for holidays, traditional cooking, and home medicines."

"So you would know if they were sorcerers, then?" Arnett asked.

"Does the name Michael Cooper mean anything to you?" the woman asked.

"The U.S. Army's mixed martial arts champion?" Arnett asked. "I don't think there's anyone in America who doesn't recognize that name."

"When he finds out who sent the DSS after his family," the woman said, "they're going to _wish_ he was a sorcerer, and not a martial arts master."

"Given the fact that he is in the Army," Arnett said, "and that he is the Army's mixed martial arts champion, I think we can take it as pretty well established that the Coopers are not sorcerers. That would have been discovered during the pre-enlistment investigation., and even if it weren't discovered then, he would have been disqualified as a competitor if he were found to have any sorcery associated with him at all, regardless of its nature. So the question now becomes, why did the DSS butcher this family, when we know they were not the sorcerers the DSS claims they were?"

 

The display winked out, and Geirahod took another sip from her mug.

"Peter Arnett died a few days later," Geirahod said. "The official cause of death was suicide. If not for the fact that the first computers on the MacManus network were already up and running, we wouldn't have that report on file, because the DSS ordered all copies of it erased. You wanted to know why I have a low opinion of the police. That's one example of why. And that's just one that was broadcast live on CNN. Most incidents like that never make it to the news, because the DSS either kills or disappears all the witnesses. That particular incident took place in Chicago."

"In Chicago?" Lois asked. "Your government is killing people like that in Chicago?"

"It's not my government, but, of course they are," Geirahod said. "It's not as if anyone is powerful enough to stop them. They've made sure of that. If we tried to stop them, they'd turn it into a second War Between the States. So instead, we've made a place people can flee to, where they'll be safe from America's government. That's why I'm here. The American government can't even stand the _idea_ of a place on the planet that they can't control in one way or another."

"I notice you haven't said anything about the Joker," Lois said.

"What's to say?" Geirahod asked, shrugging. "He threatened me, I killed him. End of story. Batman should have done it years – and a few thousand murders – ago. As far as I'm concerned, he carries some of the responsibility for all those people Joker killed. Every time he had the chance to put him down like the mad dog he was, and he didn't take that chance, he assumed part of the guilt for the people Joker murdered because he let him live."

"And what about Harley?" Lois asked.

"Oh yeah," Geirahod said, pouring herself another mug of mead. "Dr. Quinzell. I wish I had my lab, so I could take some samples to send to a friend of mine. I can't tell if she's been chemically altered, or if she's really that far around the bend. If she really is that far gone, only a bubasti has a hope of curing her. If it's just drugs, then getting her clean will help. Of course, it's been three weeks and I'm not seeing any obvious withdrawal symptoms yet, so it's looking more and more like she's just that crazy."

"So you have her locked up somewhere?" Lois asked.

"Of course," Geirahod said. "I was never quite sure whether her behavior was controlled by the Joker, chemically-induced, or her own free will. Given what I know about Arkham Asylum, there's no way that I would send even my worst enemy there. Honestly, the fact that Batman keeps letting Gotham ship his captures back there, year after year, makes me question his humanity, let alone his claims to be a hero. That's one of those places where it would be better to be dead than be imprisoned there."

Lois shuddered, remembering her visit to Inge a few days earlier. Inge, who Lois remembered as vivacious, energetic, practically a human perpetual motion machine, had been just a step or two above catatonic. She had scars and skin grafts where her skin had once been flawless, and the only person she'd let get within six feet was a single orderly who looked a lot like Miss Kyle. After seeing her, Lois had sat in the clinic's parking lot for nearly an hour before she'd managed to pull herself together enough to feel safe driving.

"I take it you've seen the place," Geirahod commented. "It's worse on the inside than it appears from the outside. The entire place is as much a nightmare as Lex's experimental wing at Metropolis General. Speaking of which, you should warn Superman that when he sends someone to shut it down, it should be someone who's _not_ from Krypton. From what I've been able to learn while scanning his systems, Lex keeps kryptonite samples at every one of his major projects, just in case one of the Kryptonians shows up. Or maybe I should say that it seems as if the primary contingency plan for every one of Lex's projects is built around the assumption a Kryptonian will be who responds. Send someone like Wonder Woman or J'onn J'onzz, and they'll be scrambling for a response. It'll probably involve massive amounts of brutality, but without kryptonite to weaken whoever's responding, they won't be as effective. I'd start at Metropolis General. No one should be a guinea pig. Not without their informed consent and freedom to back out at any time."

"I don't understand you," Lois said. "On the one hand, you kill without mercy, but on the other hand, you question Batman's humanity because he trusts the justice system."

"Ever hear of the term 'oxymoron'?" Geirahod asked. "It's a self-contradictory statement, like juvenile delinquent, or congressional ethics. One of the most horrifying examples of an oxymoron is 'justice system'. Justice is not, and can not be, a part of a system. Justice, by its very nature, is individual, personal, and unique to the circumstances. The system considers every killing done by someone without a government badge or uniform, for instance, to be murder. Justice questions whether a killing was done in self-defense, with malice, or inadvertently, among many other factors. Thus, justice is antithetical to any form of system."

"You sound like some kind of anarchist," Lois said.

"Did you forget everything I told you the day I arrived?" Geirahod snorted. "It's the only ethical political philosophy, if you believe that aggression is evil."

"How can you say you believe aggression is evil," Lois asked, "while killing people?"

"Remember what I told you then?" Geirahod asked. "Aggression is the _initiation_ of force. In other words, the use of force against someone who is not now, or has not, threatened or attempted to use force against an innocent person, either directly or indirectly. If I were to throw a punch at you, or demand that someone else throw a punch at you, I would be committing aggression against you. On the other hand, if I were to do that, and you were to respond by blowing my fool head off, you would not be committing aggression against me. Your response to my aggression is not, and by definition can not be, aggression, because you are responding to my initiation of force. Now do you understand?"

"It doesn't matter how you try to explain it away, it's still violence," Lois said.

"Of course it is," Geirahod said. "But it's not aggression. Look, when Clark goes out to fight some supervillain or alien invader, do you have a problem with what he does?"

"Of course not!" Lois said.

"Why?" Geirahod asked.

"He's Superman!" Lois said.

"So because he wears a costume, he gets to follow different rules than you do?" Geirahod asked.

"That's not it at all!" Lois protested.

"Then what makes what he does better than what I do?" Geirahod asked.

"To start with, he doesn't kill!" Lois declared.

"What's the latest count of dead and missing since Brainiac's invasion?" Geirahod asked.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Lois demanded.

"You know very well what I'm getting at," Geirahod said. "Some people, less charitable than I, would put the blame for every one of those casualties at Superman's feet, because he didn't execute Brainiac when his body count was only as high as, say, Josef Stalin's. Instead, he let Brainiac live, to build his forces, to gather his power, and to return, with enough power that even spending all the resources of this planet on war may not be enough to stop him."

"If that's the case, why are you still here?" Lois asked sourly.

"I don't have any choice," Geirahod said. "I don't want to be here. I swear, by every god I know, I would much rather be home. But until I help you defeat Brainiac, I can't go home. Your local gods can't send me home, the gods back home can't call me back, whoever designed this curse was far too clever for that." She drained her mug and poured another, and growled angrily, "And the worst part of it is, you're married."

"I'm married?" Lois asked, confused. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"There's a detail of the curse I had hoped I'd be spared," Geirahod grumbled. "I'd hoped you'd be spared it, too. Hopefully, the fact that you're happily married will protect you, at least to some extent. If not, you might want to think about asking Zee or Diana to give you personal wards against it. Just because I'm suffering with it doesn't mean you have to, as well."

"What are you talking about?" Lois demanded, feeling an almost-overwhelming urge to reach out and shake the answer out of Geirahod.

"This annoying little detail the Americans wove into their curse," Geirahod growled, glaring into the distance, as if Lois weren't there. "You see, the man they created it for, he's married. Happily married, to a really sweet fighter jock who doesn't get nearly enough air time these days because she's also a forensic examiner. The geniuses who created the curse apparently had the fool notion they could weaken his marriage, which would in turn weaken him and his non-existent ability to rule. Why is it, people afflicted with the government psychosis are incapable of comprehending the nature of anarchy, or the monoamorous, the nature of polyamory? Anyway, they included in the curse this twist. When the victim is thrown into whatever universe he – or she, in a few cases – has been banished to, the curse causes them to bond to someone in that universe. Someone who is involved in some way with the crisis that threatens the destination universe. In most cases, the person the bond forms with is someone they meet within their first few days in the new universe."

"What does that have to do with me?" Lois asked, suddenly feeling as if she knew the answer, and hoping she was wrong.

"Donal, show her a family portrait," Geirahod said. An image appeared between Geirahod and Lois, of Elsie, flanked by a dark-haired woman, and a blonde woman, with twin boys holding what looked like coffee mugs. "The dark-haired woman is Vicky, my first wife, the blonde is Esmeralda, my second wife, and the boys are our sons, Æthelred and Æthelbert. Yes, Esme's a dragon, which makes Red and Bert half-dragon. That's why they're drinking coffee. For hatchlings, coffee works kind of like warm milk does for human children." She drained her mug again, then took a deep breath. "You're the first person I met here. I doubt that face-planting in his chest, then passing out, counts as a meeting. You're also the only person I've met so far, other than Selina, who I'd normally be tempted by. And let's face it: Selina gets far too much pleasure out of playing with her Fledermaus. I'd no more try to take her from him than I'd try to take you from Clark. Even if it were possible," she snorted, making her opinion of that quite clear, "I'd feel too damned guilty about coming between people who love each other the way you do. Even the way those two do, as fucked-up as it is."

"Yet you find yourself back here," Lois asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Why?"

"Hell if I know," Geirahod grumbled. "I wish she were here, too. She might be able to see a way out of this that I haven't. Then again, if she could, she'd have used it for Fred long since, so I guess that's just wishful thinking."

"You wish who were here?" Lois asked, confused.

"Hel," Geirahod said. "Given her unique view of things, I guess I just wished she could see an alternative none of the rest of us have. But then I remembered how many times Fred's been banished since marrying her, and realized if she could see an alternative, she'd have used it on his behalf already."

"Hel?" Lois asked. "Are you talking about the goddess?"

"Yeah," Geirahod said, with a distant smile. "She's a sweet kid, heart of pure gold, the kind who everyone who meets her … with the exception of my lowlife, backstabbing, double-dealing, oath-breaking father, that is … falls in love with in a heartbeat. She doesn't deserve what this puts her through any more than Fred, or Miri, or any of the rest of that family."

"Aren't you worried about your own family?" Lois asked.

"This is the first time this has ever happened to me," Geirahod said. "Assuming I make it home in less than a millenium, the only way anyone will even know I was gone is when Donal re-syncs with the network, and I have absolutely no plans to remain here for that long."

"Well," Lois said, "I can't say you lack confidence."

"Sorry it took so long," Superman said, where he floated ten feet from the balcony. "Brainiac's forces made a push near Gotham U, and there weren't enough of the new heroes to hold them back."

Geirahod sighed heavily and pushed to her feet. "I guess that means I'd better get back to Gotham, then. If he was repulsed here, he's probably going to try there next, and my boys aren't _nearly_ strong enough to hold him off without help."

"Your boys?" Superman asked, his eyebrows raising.

"My boys," Geirahod said, and grinned. "The underworld army that drives Batman insane, because they're too busy obeying me to commit any crimes or fight him and his people. You know what a control freak he is. He can't stand the idea of an army in his city that he doesn't control. Especially when that army is made up of people who used to work for the costumed freaks who he's made a career of fighting. Besides, the last thing that man needs is more time to brood."

"Is that why you chose them?" Superman asked, while a cheek twitched in a barely-suppressed smile, and Lois snickered.

"To piss off the Bat?" Geirahod asked, and laughed. "Nah. Tempting, but no. No, I chose them because they were the largest force I could get together on short notice, who weren't going to try to argue that whatever they're up to is more important than saving your world from being destroyed by Brainiac. Well, some of them may try to argue it, but they're used to following the biggest gorilla on the block, and right now, that's me." She stretched, making it very obvious that her armor was both flexible and conforming. "In short, I'm using them for the same reason Amanda Waller does. They have the skills I need, they can be kept in line easily, and I've been able, so far, to make it obvious to them that it's safer to face Brainiac than me. The profit they make off selling robot parts helps a lot, too. Amazing how many of them are in it just to pay the rent or put food on the table. Speaking of which," she turned to Lois, "if you see Selina before I do, tell her she doesn't have to worry about me messing up her girls. I've seen how insane your society is, and I have no desire to make life any more difficult for them than it already is."

"How … _insane_ … our society is?" Lois asked.

"Yeah," Geirahod said. "If your society were sane, you'd be helping them organize, maybe have a school where they could learn their trade safely, and most importantly _not_ throw them in jail for providing a useful and needed service. They're professionals, damn it, same as a plumber or a psychologist. Hell, for a lot of people, they're probably a lot more effective than a psychologist. Despite that, they get treated like they're a plague spawned from the Abyss, and people who I'd _expect_ to be smart enough to know better try to 'help' them right out of their lives." She gave Lois a withering glare.

"Why would you think I'd see Selina before you do?" Lois asked.

"I asked her to talk to you," Geirahod said, "a week or so back. Haven't seen her since. Haven't wanted to go looking for her, because I could tell she was terrified. Talked to a friend of hers, found out the reason she was scared was because she's afraid that if your kind of people connect her to me, that it'll mean more trouble for her girls. I decided that she has good reason for fear like that, give how fucked-up your society is, so I'm going to stay away, as long as no one tries to hurt any of her girls. Of course, if anyone _does_ , they'd better pray Selina gets to them first."

"You do realize that you are incriminating yourself with just about everything you're saying," Superman said.

"Only to a society that doesn't value human life and dignity," Geirahod said. "Chew on that for a while, and if you figure out why I said it, come look me up. Meanwhile, I'd better get back to Gotham before the panicked calls start coming in."

"Too late," Donal said. "They're already starting. You guessed right. Brainiac's making a push in Burnley."

"Damn. Well, time to run!" Geirahod said, let out a shrill whistle, and then leaped over the railing. A streak of white swooped down from the sky, and a moment later, Geirahod rose into view, flying away from the building on the back of a winged horse. For a moment, they seemed to hang in the air, then they blurred and vanished.

"That," Lois said, "is a most confusing woman. Before we discuss anything else, can you call Zatanna or Wonder Woman? She warned me about an effect of her being here that could affect me, and specifically suggested I should ask them for personal wards to protect myself from it."

"What effect is that?" Superman asked, coming to a landing before Lois and embracing her.

"Apparently, the magic that sent her here is designed to bond the victim to a suitable partner from the destination universe," Lois said. "And she's a lesbian."

"And she considers you a suitable partner?" Superman asked, giving Lois an amused smile. "That shows she has good taste."

"Suitable enough," Lois said, frowning worriedly, "that she warned me I should be warded to protect me from the curse. Yes, she used the word curse, and I believe she chose that word specifically to make it clear she does not approve."

"You're right," Superman said. "She's a very confusing woman. Just a moment." He looked into the distance and spoke. "Diana, this is Kal. … How much do you know about curses? … Do you know about wards against them? … All right, would you bring her to my apartment? Lois needs her help. … Thank you."

Lois sighed and rested her head on Superman's chest. Listening to the slow, comforting beat of his heart, she murmured, "Thank you," and rested against him, feeling safe from the world.

The sparkle of the JLA's teleporter appeared inside the living room. A moment later, Wonder Woman's voice called out, "Kal? Lois?"

"We're out here, Diana," Superman said.

Wonder Woman appeared in the doorway, with an older woman, wearing white robes, beside her. She had the bemused look of someone who had just been teleported for the first time. Lois couldn't help but feel sympathy for her, since she'd felt that way the first time she'd been teleported.

"Kal, this is – " Wonder Woman started, but the older woman brushed past her and headed straight for Lois.

"Isis' Mercy, child, what has been done to you?" the older woman asked, then took Lois by the shoulders and looked at her at arm's length. "The strands of magic around you are thicker than Arachne's web!"

"So she was telling the truth," Lois whispered. "I'd hoped she was lying, or exaggerating, at least."

"Who was telling the truth, child?" the old woman asked.

"Geirahod," Lois said, noting the worried look Wonder Woman and the old woman exchanged. "She warned me I need a personal ward against curses, to protect me from a curse that she is under."

"I'll need to know more, child," the old woman said. "What is the nature of the curse?"

"She is Banished to our world," Superman said, "and cannot return to her own until she helps us defeat a menace that threatens our existence. She believes Brainiac is that menace."

"As part of the Banishment," Lois said, "she told me that she is cursed to be bonded to an appropriate person in our world. She believes I am that person, and she warned me to get help to protect myself from the curse. She specifically recommended I ask for help from Diana or Zatanna."

"A curse strong enough to affect a goddess is not easily warded against," the old woman said. "It will certainly require preparations we cannot undertake in this place. I recommend you come with us to Themyscira, where you will have all the strength of the Amazons, and all our goddesses, to protect you while we craft the necessary ward."

"Is it really that bad?" Lois asked. "I have so much work to do here, I can't just drop it and go."

"Yes, child," the old woman said. "You have told us that you were warned of this curse by one of the Norse Choosers of the Slain, and that it is strong enough to affect her. We can see the magic around you, and it confirms both her warning and the strength of the curse. If you are not warded against it, the curse will take you, and you will be unable to escape its effects."

"I'll pitch it to Perry as an in-depth look at how Brainiac's invasion is affecting places other than Metropolis," Superman said. "Go ahead. I'm still trying to find a way to deal with her."

"I doubt she'll respond the way the Elite did," Lois said. "After all, to her, it's not an excuse: it's a moral absolute. As far as I can tell from what she's said, it's as firm a moral stand for her as your belief that killing is always wrong is for you."

"You are trying to deal with Geirahod?" Wonder Woman asked. "The best way to deal with her is to avoid her notice."

"That's not very likely," Lois snorted. "After all, she's the one this curse is attached to."

"A fair point," Wonder Woman said, then fixed her gaze on Superman. "Why are you concerned with her?"

"She killed the Joker and Two-Face," Superman said. "She's taken control of Gotham's underworld, and is using it as an army to fight Brainiac."

"All right," Wonder Woman said. "I repeat: Why are you concerned with her?"

"We don't kill," Superman said.

"She does," Wonder Woman said. "It's her nature. She is one of the Valkyrjur. They are those tasked with choosing who will live and who will die in battle. They, like the fates, weave the lives of men, at least as far as whether they will live or die in any battle. You can no more stop her from killing than you can stop the universe from aging."

"There's more to it than that," Lois said. "I demanded answers from her, and her response was …," she closed her eyes and spoke, as if quoting from memory. "No person, under any circumstances at all, may initiate force, either directly or indirectly, against any other person. Because no one may initiate force, any force needed to defend, or retaliate, against the initiator or his proxies, is appropriate and necessary."

"That's a much more civilized moral code than I would have expected from an Aes," Wonder Woman said. "In fact, if everyone obeyed that code, none of the laws or governments that exist today would be needed."

"If that's her code, how can she justify killing people?" Superman asked, frowning.

"I asked her that, too," Lois said. "Putting together the things she said, it's clear that she believes that if you let a murderer live, you share in the guilt for any future deaths committed by that murderer." She looked up at Superman. "She made it pretty clear that the only reason she doesn't blame you for Brainiac's return is that she considers you incompetent to make the right decision, unlike Batman, who she _does_ blame for not only the Joker's murders, but also the deteriorating sanity of anyone who gets sent to Arkham."

Superman gave Lois a stunned, hurt look. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly, trying her best to reassure him with her embrace.

"I am curious," the old woman said. "Why is she in the mortal realm?"

"From what she's told me," Lois said, "she comes from another universe, and was banished to our universe by a spell designed to banish a friend of hers. I have no idea who her friend is, other than the ruler of the country she lives in. Or something like that. I'd need to work through my notes to figure it out exactly, since the things she's said about it seem to be conflicting, at the very least."

"I see," the old woman said. "I believe I would like to meet her. It may help with crafting a suitable ward."

"Among other things," Wonder Woman said, giving the old woman a fond smile. "Don't mind her. As our archivist, she has a fascination with all things divine, not only our own goddesses."

"We'll get along just fine," Lois said, giving the old woman a smile. "It sounds as if you're exactly the Amazon I would most want to meet."

"Diana," Superman asked, "how can you condone someone like that? You know there's a better way!"

"How can you condone the tiger?" Wonder Woman asked. "War is so intrinsic to the Aesir that the name of the goddess who rules over those who die peacefully is considered cursed, even now, and those who die in their beds are considered dishonored by doing so. Even if she were to accept your way, it would constantly be at war with her own nature, as much as a vegetarian tiger would be constantly at war with its own nature."

"Wait a minute," Lois said, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "She mentioned Hel when we were talking, and it's obvious that she loves her and despises her own father because of whatever he did to her."

Wonder Woman and the old woman looked at each other, surprised.

"How did she describe Hel?" the old woman asked.

"She described her as a sweet kid," Lois said, "with a heart of pure gold. The kind of girl that everyone who meets her falls instantly in love with – except Geirahod's father, apparently. Of course, she described her father as a back-stabbing, double-dealing oath-breaker, so I think we can safely assume that whoever her father is, she's not on the best of terms with him."

"Her father is Odin," Wonder Woman said, after staring at Lois in surprise for a moment. "You're certain that Geirahod described her father as a double-dealer and an oath-breaker, both?"

"Absolutely," Lois said. "Does that mean something more than it does to us?"

"Vastly more," the old woman said. "It means that, in her universe, Odin's authority is no longer automatically assumed. Even in our world, Odin is known to be those things, but it is never admitted by anyone other than those who follow Loki. Because of this, Odin reigns supreme in his realm, just as Zeus reigns supreme on Olympus. If even his daughters openly call him "Oath-breaker", it means that the Asgard of her universe is unstable, possibly even prone to revolution. That could be a bad thing for those realms that depend on Asgard for their existence."

"Wait," Superman said. "Are you trying to tell me that the rest of the gods of her pantheon are worse than she is?"

"It depends on how you define 'worse'," the old woman said. "To you, they are likely all equally bad, in their own ways. Even Hel, the one she described as a sweet kid with a heart of gold, is spoken of in the old tales as a vindictive, vengeful goddess, who leads the dead of her own realm against Asgard at Ragnarok, and who refuses to allow the Aesir to reclaim the soul of Baldr when he is killed at the instigation of her father, Loki." She paused, then chuckled. "Have you ever noticed how the average god or goddess has all the manners and morals of a spoiled two-year-old?"

"Hypatia!" Wonder Woman gasped.

"Relax, relax," the old woman said, still chuckling. "If the goddesses were going to strike me down over a statement like that, they'd have done it years ago. For all their response, they may even consider it a compliment."

"That's not a comforting thought," Superman said.

"I agree," Wonder Woman said.

"Either that," Lois said, "or you've cultivated a reputation as a dotty old woman as successfully as a certain detective we know has cultivated his reputation as a dissolute waste of oxygen."

"Shh!" Hypatia shushed Lois, while smiling. "Oh yes, you and I are going to get along famously."

"Just remember," Wonder Woman said, rolling her eyes with amusement. "She's married."

"And your point is?" Hypatia shot back with a cheerful grin. "Unless her vows included … oh, wait, this is America. There's a less than one percent chance that they didn't."

"That's right," Lois said. "And even if I hadn't made that promise in words, it's engraved in my heart. I would sooner die than betray my husband."

"Good, good," Hypatia said, the good humor gone for a few moments as she fixed Lois in her gaze. "You may just need that degree of commitment in order to successfully beat this curse."

"I wonder," Lois said. "Would it help to have her available when you're working on this ward?"

"Given that she is the one it's tied to?" Hypatia asked. "Do you even need to ask?"

"Right," Lois said. "I'll be right back." Lois walked into the office she and Clark shared, unplugged her laptop, and carried it back out to the balcony. Sitting at the patio table, she looked up at Hypatia expectantly. "Is there anything in particular you want me to tell her?"

"You're in contact with her?" Superman asked, surprised.

"Maybe," Lois said. "She emailed me, so I'm going to try to reply to her email. Hopefully the address is good."

"Tell her that we intend to create a ward against her curse," Hypatia said. "It would be easier if she were present, so we could be certain of our work." She added, with a faint chuckle, "It would also reduce the conflicts she has with the heroes of this world."

"That's a very good point," Lois said. "I would rather not see her and my husband fighting. I have an unsettling feeling it would be about as messy as the times he's fought Darkseid."

"Speaking rationally, though," Wonder Woman said, "if she does follow the moral code you've ascribed to her, they would only fight if she caught him harming innocents."

"Or if he attempted to arrest her," Lois said. "She would interpret that as aggression, I'm sure."

"And since her moral code considers not resisting aggression to be granting it tacit approval," Wonder Woman said thoughtfully, "she would be required by her moral code to resist."

"And since my moral code," Superman said, "does not allow any individual, regardless of who or what he or she is, to act as judge, jury and executioner, I will have to try to take her in if I find proof she is actually doing the things she and others have claimed."

"Sent," Lois announced, clicking on the "send" button in her email program. Before she had a chance to close the laptop, it gave her the "new mail" chime. She scanned to the end of the list and laughed. "I guess her address works."

"And her response?" Hypatia asked.

"The entire text of her email is 'Where and when?'," Lois said. "What should I tell her?"

"Tell her to meet us at the Lincoln Memorial in two hours," Wonder Woman said.

Lois sent the email and waited for the response. When her laptop chimed, she read the new reply and furrowed her brow.

"What is it?" Superman asked.

"Her response," Lois said. "It makes no sense. She says, 'It may take three, but I'll meet you in front of Dictator's Memorial as you requested.'" She shook her head. "I didn't take her for a Southerner, especially given what she's said about her moral code."

"You'll have to ask her when we have time," Hypatia said. "I'm curious, as well. In the meantime, you should pack for at least a week. Don't worry, we have clothing you can wear if you don't bring enough, or find what you brought to be too uncomfortable in our climate."

Lois nodded, closed her laptop, and moved to the bedroom to pack.

 

Lois waited with Wonder Woman and Hypatia on the steps in front of the Lincoln Memorial. Superman had been called away just before they left, so she had been forced to ride in Wonder Woman's jet. Admittedly, it made bringing her suitcase easier, but it would have been nice to spend a few more minutes with Clark before leaving for Themyscira. It was odd, how quiet it was in Washington, when only a hundred miles away they were fighting a war for humanity.

"Just goes to show how unimportant this place is, in the cosmic scheme of things," Geirahod said from between two of the monument's pillars. "Metropolis and Gotham are Ground Zero in Brainiac's attacks, while here we are, close enough to see the energy beams, and you'd never know Brainiac was even in orbit. Guess he has as low an opinion of the value of government as I do."

"Or he assumes he needs to take out Earth's defenders before he can move on to the rest of the planet," Wonder Woman growled.

"Which only reinforces my point," Geirahod said. "This place doesn't defend your world. All this place can do is hinder the defense. So, are you ready to go?"

"Ready," Hypatia said.

"I'm curious," Lois said. "Why did you call this Dictator's Memorial? Certainly your moral code can't allow you to support the South?"

"You're right, it can't," Geirahod said. "However, in the calculus of evil, which is worse? A leader who encourages one group of rebels to take up arms against their government, and then ten years later sends 700,000 men, if not more, to their deaths in order to prevent a different group of rebels from succeeding in peaceful secession? Or a leader who attempts to secede peacefully from what his people see as a corrupt and tyrannical government, only to be deliberately maneuvered into war while he was attempting to negotiate a peaceful secession?"

"What do you mean, peaceful?" Lois asked. "Everyone knows the South fired the first shots in that war."

"Allow me to show you something everyone _doesn't_ know," Geirahod said with a grin. "Got your laptop with you?"

"Of course," Lois said.

"We've got a few minutes," Geirahod said. "Let me get you into the National Archives. There's some documents you need to see."

Lois sat on a bench and took her laptop from its bag. As soon as it was opened, windows began opening on her desktop, linking her to the servers at the National Archives.

The first window showed a photo of a document from December of 1860, showing that a commission from South Carolina was in negotiations with Congress for the transfer of possession of Fort Sumter and other forts in Charleston Harbor.

The second window showed an order from Major Don Carlos Buell, Assistant Adjutant General of the Army, to Major Robert Anderson, instructing him to take command of whatever fort in Charleston Harbor would give him the most military advantage, and to use any and all necessary force to hold the harbor.

The third window showed documents from negotiations between representatives from the Confederacy and Secretary of State Seward for the purchase of all remaining United States property within the borders of the Confederacy, and indicated that the negotiations were close to success.

The fourth window showed an exchange between General Beauregard of South Carolina and Major Anderson of the United States, agreeing to an evacuation of Fort Sumter on April 15, 1861.

The fifth window showed a letter from President Lincoln to South Carolina Governor Pickens, ordering him to allow the passage of supplies and troops to Fort Sumter, at any time of the President's choosing, or be subject to the full military might of the United States.

The sixth window showed orders from President Lincoln to Captain Gustavus Fox to invade Charleston Harbor prior to April 15, and use whatever methods he deemed appropriate to induce the rebels to open fire, either on the fort or on his own ships.

Lois sat, reading the documents in the images for some time, then looked up, her face pale. "I need to see the originals of these, to verify that they're real."

"No problem," Geirahod said. "Are we in any rush to leave?"

"What is it?" Wonder Woman asked.

"These documents," Lois said. "If these are genuine, then what I was taught about the Civil War – what we were all taught about the Civil War – is a lie."

"That's the nature of war," Hypatia said. "Wars are always built on lies. Especially those that are entered into for 'noble' reasons. The louder one side claims the nobility of its cause, the more likely it is to be lying."

"In this case," Lois said, "it justifies what Geirahod said about President Lincoln being evil."

"Was it really so many dead?" Hypatia asked.

"According to the best figures available," Geirahod said, "the Union lost a little over 437,000, while the Confederacy lost a little over 300,000. Combined, that's over 700,000 dead, plus at least another 400,000 wounded, out of a population of 32,350,000 at the last census before the war began. All because one group of people saw another as tyrants and attempted to separate themselves from them."

"What about the slavery issue?" Lois asked. "Lincoln went to war to free the slaves, everyone knows that!"

More windows opened on Lois' laptop.

In the first one hand-written notes, titled, "Notes for speech, 1859", included, "Negro equality! Fudge! How long, in the government of a god, great enough to make and maintain this universe, shall there continue to be knaves to vend, and fools to gulp, so low a piece of demagogue-ism as this?"

A second window, titled "First Inaugural Address, March 4, 1861", contained, "I have no purpose, directly or indirectly, to interfere with the institution of slavery in the States where it exists. I believe I have no lawful right to do so, and I have no inclination to do so."

A third window, titled, "Letter to Horace Greely, August 22, 1862", contained, "If I could save the Union without freeing any slave I would do it, and if I could save it by freeing all the slaves I would do it; and if I could save it by freeing some and leaving others alone I would also do that. What I do about slavery, and the colored race, I do because I believe it helps to save the Union; and what I forbear, I forbear because I do not believe it would help to save the Union."

A fourth window, titled, "Fourth Debate with Stephen A. Douglas, September 18, 1858", contained, “I will say then that I am not, nor ever have been in favor of bringing about in anyway the social and political equality of the white and black races – that I am not nor ever have been in favor of making voters or jurors of negroes, nor of qualifying them to hold office, nor to intermarry with white people; and I will say in addition to this that there is a physical difference between the white and black races which I believe will forever forbid the two races living together on terms of social and political equality. And inasmuch as they cannot so live, while they do remain together there must be the position of superior and inferior, and I as much as any other man am in favor of having the superior position assigned to the white race.”

A fifth window, titled, "White House meeting with black community leaders, August 14, 1862", contained, " You and we are different races. We have between us a broader difference than exists between almost any other two races. Whether it is right or wrong I need not discuss, but this physical difference is a great disadvantage to us both, as I think your race suffer very greatly, many of them by living among us, while ours suffer from your presence. In a word, we suffer on each side. If this be admitted, it affords a reason at least why we should be separated. It is better for both, therefore, to be separated."

A sixth window, titled, "Notes for Emancipation Proclamation, December 31, 1862", included a number of musings on whether Congress would accept the President pretending to free slaves in another country, then concluding that even though it was impossible to enforce, the political capital, especially in convincing Europe to pull back from supporting the Confederacy, was worth it.

A seventh window, titled, "Contract with Bernard Kock, December 31, 1862", was signed by President Lincoln, and promised federal funds to deport five thousand "members of the negro race" to an island whose name Lois had to look up, only to find it was off the coast of Haiti, and was too small by any rational measure to support five thousand people.

Lois looked up, rubbing her temples. "So slavery was just a political tactic for him. It figures. No better than any other President, in other words."

"But much worse," Geirahod said. "No other President – at least, not until Rumsfeld – sent as many of his own people to death. And no other President before Rumsfeld jailed Congressmen, newspaper editors, or the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, ordered the US Army to shoot people for protesting the draft, or deported sitting members of Congress for voting against his policies." She snorted. "Funny thing is, back home, Presidents Rumsfeld and Buchanan have used Lincoln's acts as justification for their own."

"Presidents Rumsfeld and Buchanan?" Lois asked. "Are you talking about the former Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, and the political commentator Patrick Buchanan?"

"That's right," Geirahod said. "Secretary of Defense Rumsfeld was appointed President on July 4, 1976, when everyone before him in the line of succession was killed by the Bicentennial Dragon, and he remained President until 1990, when Patrick Buchanan was elected to replace him. Buchanan has been President ever since."

"How did they manage that?" Lois asked. "A President only serves for one or two terms."

"State Security Act of 1976," Geirahod said. "Passed unanimously by Congress on July 8, 1976, and signed into law on July 9, 1976. It suspends all Constitutional limitations on the Federal government, quote, 'for the duration of the emergency', and since supernatural beings aren't going to vanish for another ten thousand years, that means the Constitution means even less than it did to Lincoln."

"What do you mean?" Lois asked. "What does the supernatural have to do with anything?"

"In my world, the Bicentennial Dragon was the world-changer," Geirahod said. "On July 4, 1976, the dragon who's still sleeping over there," she pointed at the hill the Washington Monument was built on, "woke up. He was a particularly surly type, even by dragon standards. Seriously, every dragon I know says that the guy made scylla seem polite and friendly by comparison. So anyway, he woke up and immediately proceeded to level D.C. By the time the Air Force was able to shoot him down, he'd killed over 40,000 people, including Jerry Ford, Nelson Rockefeller, and Henry Kissinger. Carl Albert died when gremlins took down the jet he was in, on his way home to Oklahoma. Donald Rumsfeld was home sick with the flu, so he missed all the excitement. At least until the Secret Service collected him so he could take the Oath. It took just three days for Congress to write a law banning everything supernatural, with a penalty of death for anyone who displayed supernatural abilities or who was a member of a non-human race. The law also consolidated all federal police forces under the control of the Department of State Security, gave the DSS unlimited power to pursue the, quote, 'supernatural menace', and suspended the Constitution. The law was a big hit. Everyone loved it. At least, until they started losing family members to midnight raids, massacres, and disappearings. Problem is, the local police can't even do anything about them, because the DSS keeps a corps of supernatural storm troopers for those situations where they think there might actually be real resistance. We've seen trolls, ogres, orcs, vampires, sorcerers, and, lately, priests among the forces they keep sending at us. It's really kind of amazing just how good their brainwashing is."

"The … dragon?" Lois asked, looking toward the Washington Monument. "Sleeping … there?"

"Yeah," Geirahod said. "See, this area's been swamp since the end of the last cycle, and the dragon who lived here was one of those swamp-lovers. When the mana got too low to sustain him, he curled up and went to sleep right there, where the ley lines cross. Over time, he got buried under muck, but since a dragon doesn't need to breathe, it wasn't any big deal. Then, in our world, the mana level was close enough to the tipping point that all those people in D.C., on the Bicentennial, generated enough additional mana to wake him up. You know how impossible cranky people can be when they first wake up, right? Well, imagine what happens when your cranky person is the size of a C5, breathes fire and belches acid, and has a hide tough enough to bounce anything short of a 40mm anti-tank shell."

"That sounds like a recipe for a massacre," Wonder Woman said.

"Exactly," Geirahod said. "And in typical American fashion, they responded by trying to outlaw nature. So. You want to visit the Archives before we leave, or after we get back?"

"They won't let us in, just like that," Lois said.

"They will if she's with us," Geirahod said, nodding at Wonder Woman.

"I think you over-estimate the regard in which I am held," Wonder Woman said. "There have been … difficulties … over the last few years, which leave me in a much lower level of regard than that with which I was held during the 1940s."

"Not surprising," Geirahod said. "Rulers only respect their heroes for as long as they can use them, then they throw them out with the trash."

"Still, all you want is to show her documents that are stored in the Archives?" Wonder Woman asked.

"That's right," Geirahod said. "I assume she's going to want to photograph them for herself, once she's convinced they're authentic. Most of the documents I want to show her are in the sealed vaults. You know, the vaults the general public isn't even supposed to know exist."

"Yes, I do," Wonder Woman said. "That is a part of the reason for my difficulties."

"You realize you won't be able to keep me out," Hypatia said. "Secret document vaults? That's like candy!"

"I'm sure it is," Wonder Woman sighed. "Well, she's not likely to give us any peace until we go. So, Lois, what do you say?"

"I think," Lois said as she mulled the prospect over in her mind, "that if we are going to explore a place like that, we need more time to prepare. At the very least, I'm going to need more memory cards for my camera."

"That's a smart reporter," Geirahod chuckled. "We need more smart reporters. And fewer so-called journalists who do nothing but regurgitate government and corporate press releases."

"Now you've done it," Wonder Woman laughed. "I've sat through her rants about those so-called journalists."

"No need for me to rant about it," Lois said. "It's obvious Geirahod has the same opinion, so I'd only be preaching to the choir."

"OK, given that, shall we get out of here before Brainiac notices us?" Geirahod asked.

"A good point," Wonder Woman said. "We should leave before our presence threatens this city."

 

"Lois!" Elsie's voice came from somewhere down the beach. "There you are!"

"Yes," Lois said, opening her eyes and pushing her sunglasses up. "Here I am. What's up?"

"I need your help," Elsie said. "Before I go to Hippolyta and ask for her help, that is."

"You need my help?" Lois asked. She pushed herself up on her elbows, feeling the sand shift under her blanket as she did. "What are you planning?"

"I've finally finished Arcadia," Elsie said, "and I need a crew for her."

"You've finally finished … what?" Lois asked. She squinted at Elsie, until the other woman moved so the sun was no longer behind her..

"Arcadia," Elsie said. "I've been working on her since I found an old SKULL base on the moon and reactivated it. _After_ making sure it was completely cleared out, of course." She laughed. "Anyway, now that I have a ship, I need a crew that's capable of operating her and her fighters."

"Why do you think I can help you?" Lois asked.

"You're the journalist," Elsie said. "I was planning to give you a tour, so you could come up with a recruiting campaign. My other alternative was to just ask Hippolyta if the Amazons want her, and leaving her in Amazon hands after we destroy Brainiac."

"If you want my opinion," Lois said drily, "that's your better alternative. I wouldn't trust your Gotham army with any ship you think can destroy Brainiac."

"Hmm," Elsie said. "Good point. As much as I'm willing to trust them with my smaller devices, a ship and a moon base are just too much temptation, even for the better ones. It takes too much to change the instincts developed over a lifetime."

"So, why do you call your ship Arcadia?" Lois asked.

"Because that's her name," Elsie said. "You'll understand when you see her. Let's go talk to the Amazons, eh? No point in delaying."

Elsie helped Lois gather up her sunbathing supplies and led the way back to the palace, where Hippolyta, Diana and Donna were studying a campaign map, while several other Amazons were gathered as guards.

"Lois! Elsie!" Hippolyta called as two guards moved to stop them. "Come here, would you?" Without waiting for them, she returned her attention to the map. "So if you take your troops to this end of the island, here, you can set them up to ambush any of Brainiac's forces that attempt to attack the city. Donna, if the attack comes as we expect, I need you to take the younger warriors into the catacombs so you can strike from beneath."

"What about you?" Diana asked.

"I will be here," Hippolyta said. "The Queen must appear to be on her throne, of course." She smiled, as if she knew something none of the others present did. "Now, Lois, Elsie, you looked as if you were looking for something."

"I am," Elsie said. "I was hoping to take you and Lois on a tour of my ship, to give you an idea of what I intend to ask."

"You want crew?" Hippolyta asked. "I'm sure there are more than enough warriors to fully crew your ship."

"How many know how to fly fighters?" Elsie asked.

"Like Diana's aircraft?" Hippolyta asked. "We'll have to find out, won't we?"

"Mother," Diana said, reaching out to Hippolyta. She paused, the two exchanged a glance, and Diana sighed. "Just … be careful. Please?"

"It will be all right," Hippolyta said, smiling. "Go ahead, my daughter. Prepare your warriors."

"Yes, Mother," Diana said, with a sidelong glance at Elsie.

"Don't worry," Elsie said. "I promise, as long as she is with me, no harm will happen to your mother that is within my power to prevent."

Lois winced as she felt a wave of nausea pass through her. All the Amazons, including Hippolyta, Diana, and Donna, looked at Elsie with a mixture of surprise and awe.

"I … apologize," Diana said.

"Don't worry about it," Elsie said. "I'm not exactly a regular part of your world, after all. Now, would you rather I bring my ship here, or take you and your warriors …." She trailed off, frowning. "Nevermind. I'm bringing her here. Can you get your warriors ready to board her in the next few minutes?"

"I take it the attack is about to begin?" Hippolyta asked calmly, her tone indicating she was merely confirming what she already knew.

"It is," Elsie said. "I'm picking up a couple hundred of Brainiac's harvester ships beginning to descend in a net. They still don't know exactly where we are, but their net is tight enough that at least one of them is bound to come down on the island if we don't blow them out of the sky first."

"Gather all the warriors who are not otherwise assigned, and take them to the docks," Hippolyta ordered one of the Amazons. The Amazon saluted and ran from the room. "All right, let's go meet your ship."

Elsie led the Queen's entourage to the docks, just in time to see a steel tower tipped with a horizontal wing rising from the water, a few hundred yards offshore, followed by a row of radar dishes, then the top of a modern warship's command tower, with the rear part of a galleon, flying the Jolly Roger, a good way behind it. Then gun turrets rose from water in front of the command tower, and finally the ship's main hull, with skull and crossbones proudly displayed on the nose and on the side between the two turrets, behind what looked like a jet's air intakes, but much larger.

The ship turned toward shore and approached slowly, until the nose stopped beside the dock, opposite one of the Amazon boats. A hatch opened in the side of the nose, and a gangway extended, came to a stop on the dock, and handrails popped up on both sides, as if they had been folded into the edges of the gangway.

"Your Majesty," Elsie said, "I present the Arcadia. Trust me when I tell you that this specific design, complete with logo, will go a long way toward gaining you the trust and love of a fairly decent portion of the outside world."

"I don't believe it," Lois whispered. "I remember seeing this cartoon when I was … well, a lot younger."

"Good!" Elsie said. "Then you know how people who remember it will respond."

"She's right," Lois said, when Hippolyta looked curiously at her. "Anyone in this ship will be instantly recognized as heroes."

"Good," Hippolyta said. "That sounds like exactly what we need. May I see what my warriors will be sailing in?"

"More than just sailing," Elsie said, laughing. "Right this way." She turned and led the way up the gangway and into the ship, beginning the tour.

 

The tour had, of necessity, been compressed. It had mostly consisted of Elsie leading the group through the major departments of the ship, pausing long enough to ask who was going to be working the department, and telling them to introduce themselves to Donal. Lois had been surprised to discover that there were even a few Amazons who volunteered to fly the ship's fighters. When they made it to the bridge, Lois had to stop and stare at it in awe. It was just as she had remembered it from her childhood, right down to the enormous ship's wheel in front of the glass wall that made up the front of the bridge.

"How?" Lois asked, when she was finally able to speak.

"Matsumoto gave me permission," Elsie said. "His only restriction was that I give him a ride in her at least once. I took him to visit the Avir homeworld. Happiest man alive, I swear. Of course, back home I gave her to the quadruplet daughters of a friend of mine as a birthday present. They've been terrorizing pirates and scylla with her ever since."

"If everything works on this the way it did in the cartoon," Lois said, "It really will be our best chance to destroy Brainiac in space."

"Better," Elsie said, grinning. "See those guns out there? I've got my bots smelting more ammo for them as we speak. Same for the missiles and cannons on the fighters. Anti-aircraft support is provided by gatling lasers in emplacements all over the ship, she has a Ravenfield – speaking of which, your Majesty, don't be surprised when she Awakens – all her missiles are fitted with singularity warheads, while her cannons are all ion cannons based on a friend's design"

"How fast?" one of the Amazons behind the Queen asked.

"You're the gunner?" Elsie asked in reply. "The stream coming out of each cannon moves at a little over one and a half million stadia per second. We're using gold as the ammunition – there's enough of it in space that it's not really worth much when you know where to get it – which means the ion stream has a density of a little less than two thousand talents per chous. In other words, a shot from one of those cannons out there hits hard enough to leave a crater where the city used to be, and we have three turrets, each with three cannons, on this ship, plus the missiles, lasers, and fighters. You don't want to pull the trigger until you're absolutely certain of where your shot is going to hit, because if you miss, the shot's going to keep going until it hits _something_. And that something could be some innocent girl on another planet, just out having a quiet day with the girl she loves. No one here wants to be responsible for that, right?"

"What did you mean by the ship Awakening?" Hippolyta asked.

"Only way to make a Ravenfield work is to hook it up to a human brain," Elsie said. "Or the synthetic equivalent, at least. The problem with that is, when you build a brain, sooner or later a soul is going to show up to take residence. In our world, every soul that's taken residence in a synthetic brain has been one who wanted it, and every one has been someone who enjoys being with an organic partner, but this world has had enough trouble with AIs that I wanted you to be aware in advance, so you wouldn't think the ship had been designed with an AI that might turn against you."

"Thank you," Hippolyta said, frowning thoughtfully. "You're right. We will have to get to know the ship all over again once it Awakens, I presume?"

"Probably not," Elsie said. "She'll already know her crew, of course, and the most you'll have to do is get used to having a real person in the computer. It's actually a whole lot more fun flying with a ship who's a real person. You can't become lovers, of course, but you can be as close as it's possible to be without that." She tilted her head and hissed. "Damn. Your Majesty, for your own safety, I'd recommend you remain aboard, but if you want to get back to the city, now's a damned good time to do it."

"It's time, then?" Hippolyta asked.

"It's time," Elsie said.

Hippolyta nodded, gestured for her personal guard to accompany her, and turned to go.

"Donal, give them the quickest exit," Elsie said. "Lois, do you want to stay aboard, or stay with the Queen?"

"A chance to fly in _this_ ship?" Lois asked, shaking her head and smiling. "Why would I even consider leaving?"

A trail of light appeared on the floor, guiding Hippolyta and her guards. Elsie took position behind the wheel and looked up at a screen set above the glass wall, where she followed the Queen's progress toward the exit. As soon as Hippolyta was on dry land, the Arcadia rose into the air like a zeppelin, and Elsie winked at Lois.

"I'm not one for big speeches," Elsie said, her voice carried on the intercom system throughout the ship. "So I'll just tell you what's up. One of Brainiac's ships is close enough to break through the clouds any moment now, and we need to intercept it. Now's the time to ask the gods to guide you and support you, and I'm pretty damned sure they'll hear you. If you're not sure of anything, ask the ship. She's designed to guide new users so you can be effective as quickly as possible, but you have to trust her. Everyone here's met Donal at least once, so just talk to the Arcadia the same way you would Donal and you'll get along fine. Now, let's get some missiles in the tubes and fighters in the air. We've got bots to trash!"

The Arcadia rose above the cloud cover, trailing streamers of mist from her wingtips, and there the harvester ship was, slowly descending like it was on a cable. Both turrets swung to bear on it, and the Amazon who had asked about the cannons hit the fire button the instant her crosshairs were centered on the harvester ship. Every cannon lit up with a stream of harsh light, like lightning that leaped from the Arcadia to the harvester ship, and then punched through it like a truckload of sledgehammers punching through a watermelon. The gunner punched the air and cried out, "Opa!" then glanced around as if feeling guilty for her outburst.

"Didn't even get a distress signal off!" Elsie cheered. "Good job! Let's go hunting! Justice League, this is Captain Bowen of the Arcadia. We are hunting Brainiac's harvester ships above Themyscira. If you want to get in on the fun, you might want to come running, before we use up all the targets. Oh yes, and Kal, Lois is safe. Say something, Lois."

"Me?" Lois asked, then blushed. "I wish I had Jimmy with me to get some proper photos of this place. She's really done it! We have a chance to take the fight to Brainiac directly!"

Lois looked around as she spoke, and felt something she normally only felt when alone with Clark: hope, wonder, even a certain joy in life. She couldn't believe that being in a physical representation of a fond childhood memory could do it to her, but she had to admit that it was.

The Arcadia swung around and accelerated, while a swarm of fighters appeared surrounding her. The craft moved around each other with much more competence than Lois had expected, until a voice over the speakers laughed and declared, "This is so much easier than riding griffins! And a lot easier to use the weapons, too!"

"Be careful, ladies," Elsie laughed. "It's easy enough it could lull you into blowing yourself, or one of your sisters, up by accident. Stay focused on the bots and you should do fine."

"Keep your ears on the collision alarms," another voice called, "and you'll be fine. They work!"

"Get the feeling someone found out?" Elsie snorted, and a chorus of laughter rang over the speakers. "She's right, though. Pay attention to the collision alarms with your ears, and your eyes can remain focused on the targets. Good hunting!"

By now, they were close enough to another one of Brainiac's ships that the fighters sprang forward like hounds, and soon that ship was dotted with bursts of flame where its shields and armor were failing under the impact of dozens of small cannon shots. The enemy ship suddenly ruptured, spraying fire in a ragged blast, as the Amazons let out a cheer, then began calling out to each other in practiced tones, as if they'd been flying griffins enough to know how to work as squadrons.

"Good job, ladies," Elsie called, while grinning like a kid enjoying a new toy. "Who's up for finding the main brain of this operation?"

The chorus of excited shouts made it clear that every Amazon out there was ready and eager, and Lois found herself sharing their eagerness. The entire war had just changed from a holding action, to something they could possibly win, and she was there at the heart of it!

"You want to take over the communications station for now?" Elsie asked.

Lois looked around, surprised, and realized she was talking to her. She pointed to herself, mouthed, "Me?" and felt a burst of excitement when Elsie nodded. She found the station – the only one that hadn't been already occupied – and slid into the seat, put on the headphones that waited on a convenient hook, and was immediately immersed in the flow of messages. With Donal's quiet hints, she quickly worked out the panel's details, and the communications became her world.

 

“...too dangerous to leave in unknown hands!” Lois heard when she took off her headphones at Donal's request. Standing on the bridge, glaring at Elsie, were Batman and Superman. The voice had been Batman's.

“You're going to tell me that Hyppolyta is unknown?” Elsie asked, with a snort of laughter. “I'll be sure to tell her that when we return to Themyscira.” She gave Batman a glare to match his, then added, “Even if this ship didn't belong to her, until it's used to threaten innocents – and its mere existence is not a threat, no matter how paranoid you might be – you have no right to interfere with it or the people aboard it. When you attempt to interfere with them, you demonstrate that you are no better than the criminal scum you claim to be fighting.”

“A weapon like this cannot be allowed to roam free,” Batman growled.

“It's because of people like you that it _must_ be allowed to roam free,” Elsie shot back. “There must be a credible threat, that is not under your control, to ensure that you and your kind don't turn the Earth into the mirror image of the Earth I come from. I will not save this world from Brainiac, only to leave it in the hands of people who treat anyone who's not wearing a costume as an Untermensch. The Amazons, I trust. You people in the Justice League? Not so much. You're better than the Secret Society, but that's like saying that arsenic is better than strychnine. Both groups treat ordinary people like they're pets, at best, disposable at worst.”

“We're not like that!” Superman protested.

“No?” Elsie asked, snapping her attention to him. “So your constant exposure of innocent civilians to the hazards of thugs like the Atomic Skull, Brainiac, Lexcorp, Solomon Grundy, and others like them, is a reflection of the great regard you hold their lives in? You believe that exposing them to repeated murderous rampages by monsters that you could have easily destroyed is a sign that you _care_ for them? That you have a high regard for life? Give me a fucking break!” She snapped her attention to Batman. “And you! The Joker! Poison Ivy! The Scarecrow! Time and again, you've delivered them to Arkham Asylum, a place that you have to have known for years is little better than a medieval dungeon, where they are tortured in the name of 'therapy', and either turned loose or escape, worse than before, where they can repeat the rampages that set you after them in the first place! Do you know that better than half of the people in my army are people whose lives were destroyed by scum that you left able to walk the streets again, whose faith in the justice system was destroyed when their families were gassed by the Joker or the Scarecrow, or used as fertilizer by Poison Ivy, or test subjects by Dr. Fries? They have no hope, no faith, no reason to trust the police, or the courts, or the so-called heroes who claim loudly to be protecting them while guaranteeing that the scum who destroyed their lives are able to walk the streets. I've given them something to believe in – and a way to get as far away from Metropolis and Gotham as they can possibly get, so they're safe from the kind of costumed freaks you people attract. And this?” She gestured around the bridge. “This is my gift to Hippolyta and her people, to ensure that they are on an even footing with all the nations of what they call 'Man's World', because I trust them, far more than I trust either of you or any of the people in the organizations you represent. You people have casualty counts that are way too high, both in bodies and in souls. Each one of you has enough blood on your hands to count as a government, all by yourselves. Now, should I ask my security people to escort you off my ship, or will you leave on your own?”

“This isn't over,” Batman growled, before turning to stalk off the bridge.

“On the contrary,” Elsie snorted, then pointed at the front wall, beyond which Lois saw what all the reports told her had to be Brainiac's flagship. “You see that out there? Once that's blown out of your sky, I am gone! Home! You people can have your insane world! Any world where the so-called heroes have more consideration for the lives of rapists, murderers and terrorists than they have for ordinary people is a world I want nothing to do with! When the so-called heroes willfully blind themselves to the consequences of their actions, and willfully blind themselves to the lives that are destroyed because of their self-proclaimed 'regard for life', they don't qualify as heroes to me. They qualify as nothing more than bullies with good PR.”

All around the bridge, the Amazons began applauding. Lois felt sorry for Superman, and knew she'd have to try to sooth his sorrow when she got home. As for Batman? She was sure he had to have seen and heard the response, but his only response to the applause was to sweep the bridge with his glare, then continue to stalk off.

"It's not like that," Superman said softly, his shoulders hunched like a boy who'd just been dressed down in public. "It's not like that at all."

"Isn't it?" Elsie asked. "Are you trying to tell me that you can't tell the difference between an ordinary mugger, who you can put down with a blast of super breath, and someone like Lex, who needs to be put down so hard that no one is crazy enough to try to take his place?" She stepped closer to Superman and said softly, "If you can't tell the difference, and act on it, how can you say you're ready to wear that costume? As someone from another world is fond of saying, 'with great power comes great responsibility.' Not using your power properly is abdicating your responsibility. Now go talk to your wife. I think she wants to rip my lungs out right about now."

Lois blushed, realizing that while she was angry with the way Elsie had said it, she agreed with everything she'd said. But how was she going to tell Clark without making matters worse? She started to rise from her seat, when her panel began lighting up. The headset was on her head without a conscious thought, and she submerged into the flow of communication like it was her natural habitat.

 

"Sorry about that, Kal," Elsie said softly, then moved to take the wheel. "Brainiac's noticed us. I figured we'd get a little closer before he actually laid optics on us, but he must have some optical sensors in his pickets. You want to join in the fight, you know where the airlock is. Otherwise, you can stay here and watch."

"It's too dangerous for you," Superman protested.

"No such thing," Elsie shot back, while steering the Arcadia through the Brainiac fleet's attempt to close against her. "Humans will do whatever it takes to protect their homes, no matter how dangerous it is. I'd have thought you'd have noticed that by now. What would your Pa do if some punks tried to take his farm? I guarantee it wouldn't be yell for you and wait. Especially if your Ma was there. That's just the way humans are." She raised her voice. "Ready on main guns! Clear us a path! Fire at will!"

"You got it, Captain!" the gunner shot back, as the turrets swung into position, two degrees to the left and right, and she began firing in a ripple pattern, the outermost barrels first, then the center barrels, and finally the barrels closest to the ship's center of travel. The first shot of each ripple punched through the forcefields and armor of a harvester ship The second shot punched through the ship and out the other side. The third shot blew through the resulting explosion, scattering the wreckage like lost cargo in a storm.

With two ships destroyed for each ripple, it wasn't long before the lesser ships pulled back, leaving the Arcadia a clear path to Brainiac's ship. Superman took position above the prow, and the fighters orbited, blasting anything that got close enough to threaten their main assault.

"Where do you want me, Arcadia?" Superman's voice asked over the main channel.

"I think it's more where you want to be, Kal," Elsie answered, with a grin. "You really, REALLY do not want Brainiac to escape. If he does, you'll have to put up with me and Bruce growling at each other until he's too old to growl. Or until I hunt Brainiac down and exterminate him myself. And if Bruce tries to reign me in, he'll think Bane was a pussycat."

"I understand," Superman said. "You take care of the ship. I'll take care of any escape pods."

"Along with the fighters," Elsie said, grinning. "You're fast, but you're not Barry."

"No one is Barry," Superman said sadly. "Not even Wally."

"I know," Elsie said, in the tones she would have used at the funeral of a well-loved friend. "Everything I read about him says he was one of the most heroic men who ever lived. I would have felt honored to meet him."

"And with good cause," Superman said. "You're right. I'll work with your pilots. Are we ready, ladies?"

Good-natured ribbing erupted from the fighters, and when Superman threw himself toward Brainiac's ship, they fell into orbit around him. Brainiac's ship began filling the sky with energy beams and missiles, which the fighters dodged as if they were dodging spears on the training ground.

The Arcadia replied to Brainiac's fire with her own guns, and soon it became apparent that the flagship's forcefields were much stronger than those of the lesser ships. It took a full ripple from a turret to punch a hole in the flagship's forcefield, and the hole closed before the next load was ready to fire.

"Captain!" the gunner called. "Permission to try an experiment?"

"If it gets us through those shields, you can try any experiment you like," Elsie replied.

The words had barely left Elsie's lips when both turrets swung to line up on the same target. The fore turret fired a ripple of shots, followed immediately by the aft, which was followed immediately by a ripple of shots from a third turret that Lois suddenly remembered was mounted on the keel. As soon as the third turret had fired, the first took up the rhythm, then the second, then the third again. The turrets continued their rotation, laying burst after burst of gold ions into the enemy, each round chewing just a little deeper into the ship, like teeth on a drill. The enemy's force field briefly flickered into existence in the fractions of seconds between shots, but the constant pounding caused each flicker to appear weaker and more unstable.

After over a minute of continuous fire, six missiles launched from the Arcadia, timed to fly between the cannon shots, and detonate inside the hole that had been chewed into the ship's armor. The first explosion flared like the films Lois had seen of old nuclear tests. The second one was mostly obscured by wreckage that had been blown loose by the first. Each missile after that detonated deeper into the ship, until the entire ship blossomed into an enormous fireball, spraying chunks of wreckage in all directions, some large enough that they would have swatted the fighters out of space if not for the black energy fields that appeared around them whenever debris hit them.

"You got him, Kal?" Elsie called, as soon as the explosion flare faded.

"There's nothing to get," Superman replied. "None of the escape pods launched."

"Lois? Is that right?" Elsie asked, spinning to look at Lois.

Loise worked her panel, scanning all the traffic around them. The fighters were searching for escape pods, but their confusion was right up there with Clark's. She wasn't picking up any emergency beacons, either. She finally looked up and shook her head. "Nothing."

"Let's hope we got him, then," Elsie said. "If we didn't, we'll have to assume he either wasn't there, or had an emergency teleporter that could work while under fire."

"I didn't pick up any teleporter signals," J'onn's voice cut in. "I've been monitoring from the Watchtower."

"Good," Elsie said. "In that case, I might be out of your hair any day now."

"That would reduce the stress around the Watchtower," J'onn said. "I would greatly appreciate that."

"Did you take care of that Lexcorp project at Metropolis General?" Elsie asked.

"Yes," J'onn said. "You were right. A Kryptonian would have been a bad idea. Luthor gave Dr. Psycho enough kryptonite to kill any of them."

"Problem's solved, then?" Elsie asked rhetorically. "Good. We've got clean-up work to deal with up here. How many Lanterns are on Earth these days?"

"Not nearly enough," J'onn said. "Why?"

"They're the best choice for hauling wreckage where it won't injure anyone on the surface," Elsie said. "Most of these pieces are too big to burn up on re-entry."

"I thought you just wanted out of here," Superman said, confused.

"I do," Elsie said. "That doesn't mean I'm going to leave this crap here to endanger innocent people down below."

"Will Yellow Lanterns do?" a woman's voice asked. "I've got a couple dozen of us who'd love to help, if you are willing to not start shooting at us as soon as we show up."

"Honey, I'll take any help I can get," Elsie declared. "You know what the Arcadia looks like?"

"Know it?" the woman asked, "I've loved that ship since I was a little girl!"

"Then bring your team and come aboard!" Elsie said. "The sooner you join us, the sooner we can clean this mess up."

"Do you mind if we clean up whatever we run into on the way?" the woman asked.

"We'd be thankful," J'onn said. "Welcome to the fight."

"We, uh, we'd really rather not be fighting," the woman said. "That's why we're up here instead of with those maniacs in Metropolis. Just because I was chosen for a yellow ring doesn't mean I want to be a villain. It just means I'm scared!"

"Anyone who's not scared is either crazy, stupid, dead, or a Green Lantern," Elsie said. "Come on up. Superman, can you take a moment from looking for Brainiac to bring the new squad up to speed?"

"I, sure," Superman said. "Can you find me, miss?"

"Penelope," the woman said. "I'm Penelope Baen. I got stuck with this ring because I've been afraid all my life, and it keeps trying to get me to join Sinestro and fight the Green Lanterns. Well, I don't WANT to fight, and if helping collect all that debris you're worried about means I don't have to, then that's what I'll do. And everyone who's with me is the same way. We're AFRAID, not EVIL."

"Hey, you're good by me," Elsie said.

"Fear is only a sign of evil in badly-written movies," J'onn said. "If you let us help you, we can teach you how to master your fear, so the rings can no longer influence you."

"That's the best offer we've had since this whole mess began!" Penelope said. "Let's get this cleaned up and we can talk more, huh?"

"An excellent suggestion," J'onn said.

Outside the Arcadia, Penelope's group of Yellow Lanterns flew into view, landed atop the turrets, and looked around with varying expressions of awe on their faces. When Superman flew toward them, they all erected personal barriers, as if expecting him to attack. Superman landed on the Arcadia's prow and rested his hands on his hips. After about ten seconds, one of the Lanterns lowered her shield, followed, with some obvious trepidation, by each of the others lowering theirs.

"People," the gunner said, "do you think you could move your meeting to another location? I might have to use the main guns to break up any drifters that get too close to us."

"No need to worry," Elsie said. "Ravenfield will stop them, and unless one of them suddenly comes to life because Brainiac was aboard it, I think all we have out there is drifters. This is the problem with insisting on personal control of your entire fleet. You get blown up, and your fleet turns into a few million tons of scrap metal. Still, better you should use it for target practice than let Star Labs, Waynetech or Lexcorp get their hands on it." She paused a moment, then nodded. "Penelope, do you think you and your people could take off and start collecting debris? We need to break up the rest of these ships so they aren't usable by anyone. And once you've collected all the debris, could you drop it into Venus or the sun? I don't care much which."

"Venus or the sun?" Penelope asked.

"Yeah," Elsie said. "Either way, the pieces will be completely destroyed, so there's no risk of anyone making use of any salvaged technology. There's already way too much of that on the ground as it is."

"Oh!" Penelope said. "That's a good point. You heard her, people. Let's gather all this junk up and dump it in the sun!"

The Yellow Lanterns moved out from the Arcadia and began collecting the largest pieces of debris, while the Arcadia began blowing up the drifting ships of Brainiac's fleet. Suddenly, one of the drifters powered up and attempted to flee. Its flight path took it right through the middle of the largest group of Yellow Lanterns.

"NO!" a man's terrified voice yelled. "Never again! You're not going to attack us again!"

A yellow hammer, the size of an oil tanker, smashed into the nose of the escaping ship, crumpling it and spilling robots out the tears that spread down the ship's length. Suddenly, yellow hammers, swords, axes, maces, and other crude implements of destruction began battering at the ship, crushing some parts, chopping others open, and reducing the ship to shattered pieces of metal.

"How?" came from the radio. "You're nothing but primitives. You … can't … defeat … me …."

The gunner unloaded every gun the Arcadia had into what was left of the ship, and followed it up with a half-dozen missiles.

"Good work," Elsie said. "Now let's clean this up and go back to Themyscira to celebrate."

"Celebrate?" Penelope asked nervously. "Are you sure?"

"Damned straight I am," Elsie said. "Your people deserve credit for stopping that bastard, and I'm sure Hippolyta will make sure you get it."

"Yes," Superman said. "Celebrate. You were all afraid, but because of your fear, you were able to overcome one of the most dangerous beings this universe has ever created. You deserve every bit of praise you're going to receive for that."

"Praise? Us?" Penelope squeaked.

"Don't worry," Elsie said. "You don't have to deal with parades and stuff unless you want to. That's the advantage of being the hero. You can always say you have something urgent to deal with, and get away with not being there."

"Wouldn't, wouldn't that be lying, though?" a man's voice asked, just as fearfully.

"Not really," Superman said. "There is always something that needs urgent response. So many things that even if you only protect a single city, you have to choose which you'll respond to, and how much you'll leave for the police and other emergency responders, simply because there's too much for a single person to handle all alone. If you protect the entire planet, or this part of the galaxy, the way the Green Lanterns do, you quickly discover that if you don't restrict yourself to ONLY handling the things that are too much for mundane response, you'll drop from exhaustion long before you run out of emergencies to respond to."

"So that's why you only do the big stuff," another voice said. "It's not that you don't care about us, it's that there's too much to do."

"That's right," Superman said. "Even with all of you working together, there's just too much to do. We'll do all we can to help you, but you'll have to learn how to balance your heroic and private lives for yourselves."

"That's why I think he's salvageable," Elsie's voice said in Lois' headset. "He's going to need your help once I'm gone, Lois. Think you can manage?"

"I've been there for him since he came to Metropolis," Lois replied quietly. "That's not changing now."

"Good," Elsie said. "Just understanding that he could only do so much must have been painful for him. I'm glad that he's managed to work that out well enough to be able to advise these new kids. I just hope he doesn't trust Bruce to mentor any of them."

"I'll do what I can to make sure that doesn't happen," Lois said. "I never realized before just how much of Bruce's asshole personality was real. I'd always hoped it was part of his act."

"Afraid not," Elsie said. "You know, J'onn would be a good mentor. The guy's damned near a monk, and I'll bet those kids could use that kind of guidance, just to control their fears."

"I'll suggest it," Lois said. "Thank you."

"Hey," Elsie chuckled. "I may hate this world, but I'm rather fond of certain people in it. Speaking of which, I've left my organization to Selina. You think you and Vicki could help her out? Assuming, of course, that you've gotten over your insane prejudices against her legitimate profession."

"I … don't know about Vicki," Lois said, "and I still don't like the idea of women being exploited like that, but …."

"How is what they do any more exploitation than what you do?" Elsie asked, in a tone that suggested her question was completely reasonable. "You rent your mind, they rent their bodies. IF, in either case, it was being done by coercion, the way it is in a list of places I could give you, complete with enough evidence to sink them, if government officials weren't on their take, and protect you from any kind of libel suit, I'd be all about shutting Selina's places down. But Selina runs the only clean operations of that kind in either city. For women who want that kind of work, they NEED someone like Selina."

"But why would any woman WANT that kind of work?" Lois protested. "It's degrading! It's insulting! It makes men look at them like they're nothing but meat!"

"MAKES men?" Elsie snorted. "Lois, if you don't know by now that NOTHING makes men hold attitudes they don't want to have, you haven't been out in the real world. Any man who's going to look at a dancer like she's a piece of meat is going to look at a movie star or news anchor the same way. Any man who's going to treat a prostitute like a piece of meat would do the same to his wife, if he could get away with it. The problem isn't with their work, it's with people who think they can get away with abusing them because their work is so denigrated."

"I know, I know, OK?" Lois grumbled. "I've seen the effects. I've heard the same arguments from her. I don't believe it. No one could possibly want to do that for a living!"

Elsie broke into laughter and turned from the wheel to give Lois a knowing look. Everyone else on the bridge looked to see what had the captain laughing so openly, saw it had something to do with Lois, and returned to their duties. Most of them were of the opinion that if the two of them would just get over themselves and move in together, there'd be a lot less stress between them.

"Lois, have you never visited the Dove Club?" Elsie asked snickering.

"Of course I have!" Lois answered, gritting her teeth and blushing as she remembered the place. It was one of her favorite haunts on Themyscira, even if the dancers there made her wish Clark were with her far more often than she wanted to think about.

"You do know that the dove is sacred to Aphrodite, right?" Elsie asked, her grin broadening to the point that Lois wanted to slap it off her face. "Imagine what you would think of the Dove Club if most of its clientèle were men instead of women."

"But it's on Themyscira!" Lois protested. "That's not possible!"

"Lois, you're smarter than this," Elsie said, giving Lois a disappointed look. "Transpose the Dove Club from Themyscira to Metropolis. Now, what would you say about it?"

Lois stared at Elsie. What she was suggesting was impossible! But … but she couldn't ignore the evidence. She had been participating in the exploitation of women, right there on Themyscira.

"That reminds me, Captain," the flight officer said, "do you have any idea when we're going to be done up here? It cost me five drachma to reserve a pole for tonight, and I don't want to miss out if we're not stuck up here."

"Five drachma?" Elsie asked, surprised. "Did you reserve the center stage?"

"That's right," the flight officer said, with a grin. "Agathe said I got it so cheap because I'm so popular."

"Let me give them a call and see how they're doing on cleanup," Elsie said. "Penelope? Kal? How are you doing out there?"

"These Yellow Lanterns are amazing," Superman said. "As long as we can keep the Green Lanterns from fighting with them, they're going to make a big difference in the world."

"So, keep them from fighting," Elsie said. "Gardner's probably going to be the biggest headache, unless someone fixed his brain damage."

"You make it sound so easy," Superman said, chuckling. "But you're right. Guy is very likely to be our biggest headache. Whatever the Guardians use for choosing Lanterns obviously didn't consider all of the reasons someone might be fearless."

"We should be done in another half hour," Penelope said. "Thank you for making most of the pieces small enough we can ignore them. Even so, I never imagined Brainiac had so many robots."

"Yeah," Elsie said. "From what I've been able to discover on the ground, each one of his ships had enough robots in it to mount a full invasion all by itself. Multiply that by how many ships we've destroyed, and …."

"You get enough robots to take out the whole human race," Penelope said, her voice shaking. Out among the debris, one of the yellow nets that was collecting scrap suddenly got a lot brighter.

"Hey, we beat him, right?" Elsie said. "Your crew finished him off, so he can't threaten anyone else, ever again."

"Yeah, you're right," Penelope said, "but it's still pretty damned scary."

"You got that right," Elsie said. "Just thinking about it scares ME, and people have this silly idea that I'm all but fearless."

Lois looked from Elsie to the flight officer – Charis, if she remembered right – trying to work out what she'd just heard. Charis was paying Agathe for the privilege of dancing at the Dove Club? But if it was exploiting women, the way the evidence suggested, why would she pay to be exploited? It didn't make sense? It MUST be exploiting women, or why would Elsie have made such a deal out of it being associated with Aphrodite?

"Why must it be exploiting women?" Lois heard, as the bridge vanished and she found herself lounging on a couch, in a gazebo that was surrounded by fields that went on forever. A table in front of her was heaped with fruits and wine. At a right angle to her was another couch, occupied by a woman with blonde hair she was sure Hippolyta would envy, with a body that caused her heart to race at just a glance, wearing the standard chiton all the women on Themyscira wore.

"Tell me, little wordsmith," the woman asked, her voice filled with amusement and a smirk on her face, "why it is that women enjoying their physical natures must, by definition, be suffering from exploitation? Who is it that is exploiting them when they enjoy what they are doing so much that they pay for the privilege of allowing others to see them at play?"

"How can any woman enjoy being degraded that way?" Lois asked. "Why would any woman WANT to expose herself to strangers?"

"Why would you want to expose your writing to strangers?" the woman asked. "Isn't that more intimate than anything to do with your body? After all, it contains your thoughts, your feelings, the creations of your innermost being, while your body is merely physical."

"But it's … it's … indecent!" Lois protested weakly, realizing as she did how sad the rejoinder sounded.

"Only to those for whom their body is a source of shame," the woman said, giving Lois a sad look. "Are you so ashamed of your body that you consider it indecent to expose it the same way you expose your thoughts and feelings?"

"It's not like that at all!" Lois protested. "It's … it's just not right!"

"Why is it not right, dear?" the woman asked.

"Because it's indecent!" Lois argued, then let out a strangled whimper as she realized how foolish she sounded.

"So, it's not right because it's indecent," the woman said, as if trying to confirm what she had heard, "and it's indecent because it's not right. Is that what you're trying to say?"

"I, I, I don't KNOW, OK?" Lois admitted miserably. "It's just what I know!"

"It's what you were taught by Man's World," the woman said. "I can offer you a better understanding, if you're willing to accept it."

"A better understanding? What do you mean?" Lois asked.

"The Dove Club is dedicated to my service, after all," the woman said, "and Selina Kyle does my work in Man's World, even though she doesn't realize it. Providing safety for women, so they can share the pleasures of their physical selves, the way you share the pleasure of your inner thoughts, is the highest calling there is for someone who serves me. I could argue that it pleases me more than the service of a priestess, but then I'd be short of priestesses, wouldn't I?"

As she chuckled indulgently, Lois stared at her, trying to wrap her mind around the idea that Aphrodite was talking to her. HER, a woman who didn't even believe in gods, let alone worship one.

"I don't want someone who believes in me, Lois," Aphrodite said. 'I want someone who understands that women have just as much right to enjoy their bodies as men, and is willing to use her talents to spread that message – or at the very least, to protect those women who DO enjoy their bodies as men do."

"But the exploitation!" Lois protested.

"How is it exploitation," Aphrodite asked, "when you are doing what you enjoy and being rewarded for doing it?"

"But they CAN'T be enjoying it!" Lois argued. "It's so degrading!"

"How is it degrading?" Aphrodite asked. "Has even one of the women you are so concerned with expressed the slightest hint that she feels degraded in any way by what she's doing?"

"Nnnnnno," Loise said slowly, then rushed on with, "but I just KNOW they've got to be using drugs or getting drunk in order to not feel it! There's no possible way a woman can do what they do and not feel degraded!"

"Why do you know this?" Aphrodite asked. "Why do you disrespect your sisters so much that you would rather believe they are poisoning themselves than believe they honestly do feel what they have told you they feel?"

"They can't be!" Lois protested. "They can't be! It's impossible!"

"Why?" Aphrodite asked.

"It's so degrading!" Lois argued. "No one can possibly enjoy being degraded!"

"Do you enjoy exposing yourself to your husband?" Aphrodite asked.

"That's none of your business!" Lois snapped angrily.

"You forget who I am," Aphrodite laughed. "That is precisely my business."

"It doesn't matter!" Lois yelled. "What I feel for Clark is my own business!"

"And if you felt something like that for everyone?" Aphrodite asked. "What would you do then? What would you do if you felt for everyone you meet something very like what you feel for Clark?"

"That's not possible!" Lois snapped. "No one can love more than one person!"

"No one?" Aphrodite asked, then gave Lois a sad look. "Your world must be a very sad and lonely one. I would leave you to your loneliness, but you are a danger to people I care for, so I must try to make you understand."

"You're asking me to understand the impossible!" Lois said.

"Why is it impossible?" Aphrodite asked. "Where is it written that it is impossible to love more than one person?"

"It … it … it … it just IS!" Lois yelled. "Everyone knows that!"

"Everyone?" Aphrodite asked. "Even the people of the Oneida Colony? Even people like Mary Wollstonecraft, Victoria Woodhull, Emma Goldman, Margaret Sanger, or Noe Ito and Sakae Osugi? Oh. Wait, I shouldn't have mentioned those two. They were murdered by people who believe what you do."

"Don't lump me in with murderers!" Lois yelled angrily.

"Oh, I wasn't," Aphrodite said. "Merely pointing out that you'll never find people who believe in free love murdering others because they choose to love only one. You'll find the opposite is far too often true, though. I wonder why that is?"

"How should I know?" Lois growled.

"It's certainly worth researching, though, don't you think?" Aphrodite asked. "I think I've given you enough to think about for now, though. Oh yes, and a warning. Don't do anything to make life more difficult for Selina Kyle and the ladies she supports. It would be bad. On the other hand, I would look with favor on anything you do to support them. Think about it."

Aphrodite and everything around her vanished, and Lois found herself staring at the comm panel, where no time had apparently passed.

"We'll get – oh, you have got to be kidding me!" Penelope whimpered.

"What is it?" Superman asked.

"It looks like a bomb," Penelope said.

"That?" another Lantern asked. "Oh shit! It does!"

Suddenly, space lit up where Penelope's net was, and several Yellow Lanterns flew backwards from the flash.

"Are you all right?" Superman asked, darting from Lantern to Lantern.

The Lanterns all quickly reassured him they were well, just surprised by the explosion.

"Why did you set it off?" Superman asked.

"I don't know!" the Lantern who had confirmed the object looked like a bomb said. "I just had to get it away from Penelope, so it wouldn't hurt her!"

"That's the response of a hero," Superman said, then chuckled. "We just need to work on your control."

"Uh, yeah," the Lantern said, sounding embarrassed. "Sorry, Pen."

"It's all right, Jeanne," Penelope said. "My heart will stop racing any time now."

"And here I thought it was just the excitement," Elsie laughed. "Seriously, you did good. And look at the bright side! That bomb blew up most of the debris into pieces small enough it's going to make for a great fireworks show, but not hurt anyone on the ground. Sometimes, you take what you can get, and work to make it better next time. Now, how's it look, Watchtower?"

"It looks good, Arcadia," J'onn said. "What little is left, we can clean up ourselves. I believe you promised our newest heroes a celebration, did you not?"

"I did indeed," Elsie said, then laughed. "As soon as we're all on the ground, the party's on me."

"A tempting thought, Captain," Charis teased, "but I don't think you're quite big enough to go around."

"Details! Details!" Elsie laughed. "Besides, you'll be on stage, remember? I wonder how much of the club we can take over."

"Probably have to get Agathe to open some of the extra rooms," Charis said. "We can't be the only group who's going to want to celebrate tonight."

"You heard her, ladies!" Elsie declared. "The Watchtower says they're finishing the clean-up here, so bring yourselves back aboard and let's head back to celebrate. That means you Yellow Lanterns, too. Drag all of yourselves aboard!"

"We're on our way," Penelope said.

"Captain," Charis said, "You should probably warn the males to be on their best behavior. We should be able to get away with allowing them to visit, but it's not a normal thing."

"Oh, good point," Elsie said. "You all listening out there? We're visiting somewhere that doesn't normally allow men. So any guys in the group should stick close to Superman and follow his lead."

"Stick close to me?" Superman asked, sounding distinctly worried. "If you're going where it sounds like you're planning to go, I'm not sure I'm the best choice for chaperone."

"Don't worry," Elsie laughed, while grinning at Lois. "I'm pretty sure I know someone who can help with that task."

"I," Lois started, ready to protest, then paused and let out a heavy sigh. "Yes, I think I can manage. At least, I can manage as long as no one minds tagging along while I interview people."

"As long as we don't have to ask any questions, it's OK," one of the Yellow Lantern men said. "I don't even like talking to people on the phone."

"Don't worry," Lois said. "I never expect anyone else to do my interviews for me. In fact, if Superman doesn't mind sitting with the rest of you, I think I can find a nice quiet spot to get you settled in, where most people won't bother you."

"That would be really nice," Penelope said. "Thank you."

"Lois, would you call ground control and warn them we're on our way back?" Elsie asked.

"Does Themyscira even have a ground control?" Lois asked.

"Oh," Elsie said. "Good question. Well, we're going to have to set something up, now that they have flying vehicles. Pen? You see the airlocks? Why don't you guys use those, so the fighters can land without anyone getting tangled up? Superman, you think you can help people find the airlocks?"

"We're already managing it," Superman said.

"We found them," Penelope said.

"That's the last of the fighters," Charis announced. "We can land any time, Captain."

"Wow!" a new arrival on the bridge exclaimed. Lois looked toward the hatch, and saw Clark leading a group of people wearing Yellow Lantern uniforms - or, at least, yellow versions of Green Lantern uniforms. One of them, a nervous girl with hair as red as Poison Ivy's, seemed to be their leader. She also seemed to be as overwhelmed as Lois had felt when she first walked onto the bridge.

"Hey!" Elsie called, while waving and grinning at the newcomers. "Welcome to the Arcadia! So, what do you think?"

"It's real!" the redhead said, confirming with her voice that she was the Penelope who was de-facto leader of these Yellow Lanterns. "It's really real! Wow!"

"You must be Penelope," Elsie declared. "Come on, all of you. We're going to land in the harbor in about a minute, so if you want to look out the front wall, now's your chance."

The Lanterns, all ... Lois counted again, just to be sure she hadn't missed one ... fifteen of them ... rushed to press against the glass wall and look out over the Arcadia's bow. Lois couldn't help smiling at that, and sympathizing with them. She'd seen the view from the Watchtower before, but something about the view from the Arcadia was special, especially if you'd grown up watching the animated series.

Elsie threw a grin Lois' way, and whispered in her headphones, "What do you think? Are those good kids, or what?"

"Not all of them are kids," Lois shot back, chuckling, "but yeah, they're good. Hopefully J'onn can give them enough self-confidence to keep the fighting between them and the Green Lanterns to a minimum."

"Given what we've seen," Elsie said, "I'd bet that unless one of the greens attacked them, no one in this bunch is going to start a fight."

"I'd agree with that," Lois said.

The ocean rose to meet the Arcadia, and as it washed over the front of the bridge, even the bridge crew exclaimed with excitement. The ship's running lights illumined the ocean in all directions, revealing wonders, from schools of fish that swirled around the turrets, to dolphins that nosed the ship, then swam away as if satisfied by their examination.

The foundations of the harbor came into view. The Arcadia broke the surface and cruised in to dock like a grand dame moving into her place at a ball.

"Ladies - and gentlemen - welcome to Themyscira," Elsie announced. "Guys, I'd suggest you be really careful, and follow the lead of any ladies you happen to be near. This is the home of the Amazons, so men are not normally welcome. In fact, I'd suggest you stay on the Arcadia until I've spoken with the Queen and received her permission for you to join the celebration. As far as I'm concerned, you're welcome, but this isn't my home, you know?"

"It's - it's OK," the man who'd mentioned not liking phone calls said. "It's safe here, you know?"

"OH yes," Elsie agreed. "The Arcadia is definitely safe. You all can wander where you like, then. Just pay attention when she tells you somewhere is off limits, and you'll be OK."

"We can do that," Penelope said. "I think we'd all rather stay here until you're certain it's safe. Is that OK?"

"That's perfect," Elsie said. "Donal, can you interface with their rings and give them a download of everything they need to know to be safe on board?"

"Can do," Donal replied. "Penelope, since you're speaking for the group, would you let me interface with your ring? I'm in the watch Elsie's wearing."

"Um, all right?" Penelope answered, and slowly approached Elsie. Elsie extended her left hand, and her watch's face opened into a small cavity that Penelope's ring could fit into.

"Just put your hand to Donal," Elsie said, while giving Penelope a warm smile. "If you plug your ring into the opening there, he'll take care of the rest. With your ring's help, as long as you want it to happen."

Penelope chewed on her lower lip and nodded. Elsie smiled and rested a hand on her shoulder. Penelope looked up at her, gave her a weak smile in return, and fitted her ring to the opening in Donal's face. Within a few moments, her smile changed from weak and uncertain to one of wonder.

Penelope threw her arms around Elsie while laughing happily, then squeaked and jumped back, babbling incoherently while her yellow glow brightened. Elsie, who had smiled at the hug, let out a sigh and reached for her, while speaking too softly for Lois to hear. Still, she was pretty sure she could guess that Elsie was trying to reassure her. After nearly a minute, it was apparent the reassurance was working. Penelope's shield dimmed and she gave Elsie a grateful look.

"You'll be OK?" Elsie asked gently, while giving Penelope a hug. "I won't be gone that long, I'm sure."

"We'll make sure they're OK, Captain," Charis said. "They're with us now, after all."

"Thanks," Elsie said. "I'd better get going before people start wondering if we came back with a crew aboard. You coming, Lois, or do you want to wait for him?"

"I'll wait," Lois said. "No time like the present to talk to everyone here and get their stories. It'll help with convincing people that _these_ Yellow Lanterns, at least, are heroes."

 

Lois gave Superman's hand a squeeze and leaned over to whisper to him, "I know. This place is uncomfortable for me, too.."

On the main stage, Charis was giving a demonstration of strength and flexibility that made Batman look like a crippled old man by comparison. The Amazons who had crewed the Arcadia were cheering her on – except for the ones who spontaneously jumped on stage to join her. The Yellow Lanterns were huddled in a group around one large table, with Penelope curled up on Elsie's lap, as if Elsie were her security blanket. Every so often, one of the others – a girl named Helen, according to Lois' notes – would look to Penelope as if for confirmation, then return to talking quietly with the other Lanterns after a nod or a word from Penelope.

"Oh, good grief," Elsie exclaimed suddenly, then called across the room, "Diana? Would you ask your mother what she wants to do about someone trying to sabotage the Arcadia?"

"Would you let me and Kal try to deal with him first?" Diana asked.

"I would," Elsie said, "except he was already warned that the Arcadia is the property of the Amazons, and that any decisions regarding her have to come from the Queen. Kal was there when I gave him the warning."

"He knew you were there?" Diana asked, fixing her gaze on Superman.

"I was standing beside him when she told him," Superman said. "And that she was giving both the ship and her moon base to the Amazons so you would have the power to face Man's World on an equal footing."

Elsie tilted her head, then smiled. "Well, apparently his earplugs aren't good enough to stand up to a sonic anti-intrusion system. He's being foamed in place before he wakes up, so you should have enough time to decide what to do with him. I promise you this, though: if I learn he's done anything to make the Arcadia or your new moon base unusable for you, I will come back from my world to deal with him personally."

A wave of nausea swept through the room, and Elsie bent her head to whisper into Penelope's ear, and then to do the same to Helen. Both lead Lanterns passed messages to the others, by way of their rings, Lois was certain. If she had not experienced Elsie's promise before boarding the Arcadia, she was sure she would have needed reassurance, too. As it was, she felt a passing pity for Batman, followed by the thought that he had brought it on his own head.

"Oi! Captain!" Charis called from the stage, standing with her hip cocked and tapping her foot in a mockery of impatience. "What'd you go making a promise about?"

"Oh," Elsie shot back with a grin, waving her hand as if the answer were unimportant, "just that if I find out a certain flying rodent tries to sabotage the Arcadia or the moonbase, I'll come back from my world to educate him about why that's a bad idea."

"Oooh!" Charis bubbled, while holding her hands together like a child begging for ice cream, "Can we watch?"

Every Amazon within hearing range of the main stage broke into laughter at Charis' antics, and Lois found herself joining in. Charis had a way of knowing just what to do to break the tension.

Once Elsie had recovered from her own laughter, she nodded and called back, "I'm sure she'll be Awake by then, and will record it for posterity – or at least for the enjoyment of her crew."

"Is there anything we should know about your security system?" Diana asked.

"Nothing for anyone who isn't trying to steal or sabotage the ship to worry about," Elsie said. "Anyone who is, on the other hand, first gets knocked out with a triple whammy of anesthetic gas, ultrasonic stunner, and phasers. If they get knocked out by that, she'll coat them in a steel foam full-body restraint. How thick she makes it depends on her estimate of the intruder's strength based on body scans and any available information on the intruder. If they have any tools that could be used to escape, she'll make the foam denser around their hands and tools. So, given who we're talking about, I'd say the only part of him that hasn't been foamed is his nose and mouth, and the foam is dense enough the weight is holding him to the deck. So figure he's in a steel foam cocoon, about a foot thick and dense enough to use as structural supports, except around his nose and mouth. Easy enough for the two of you to cut through, but he would need either vocal or cybernetic controls for his gadgets to get free."

"And if they don't get knocked out?" Superman asked.

"Then the phasers get boosted," Elsie said. "Depending on the intruder, they can either be set to 'knock out a charging Grodd' or 'disintegrate'. I prefer the first, myself. You can't find out who sent them if they're a cloud of subatomic particles. Unfortunately, the type of enemies that would call for the Arcadia's firepower could very well require the second response."

"A reasonable precaution," Diana said, and grabbed Superman's arm to lead him away before he could protest.

"How's he doing?' Elsie asked, once Superman was out of the club. "Now that he's had time to think, I mean."

"He's never going to think the way you do," Lois said. "Hell, my father was a Green Beret, and I don't think the way you do. But I can translate it for him, some."

"Good," Elsie said. "Translating is good. I'm not sure he'd be who he is if he could understand, sadly, and the world needs Boy Scouts." She gave Penelope a smile and asked, "Want to come with me? I need to deliver a message before we go home."

Penelope's face lit up as if she'd just been proposed to, and she nodded eagerly. Elsie stood and gently set her on her feet, then stood back while the other Yellow Lanterns gathered around her to hug and say good bye to her.

"I'd really appreciate it if you were to support Selina," Elsie said softly. Lois turned to look at her, surprised, and Elsie continued. "I've left her with a means to reach parts of Gotham Batman can't, and as far as I can tell, Bruce has stopped trying. Selina's in the trenches, trying to make life as good as she can for the people she can reach. If she uses what I'm leaving her, and gets support from people who can influence those outside her reach, she just might be able to make her part of Gotham a better place to live than where the 'polite' people live."

"You are one confusing woman," Lois growled, even though her heart wasn't truly in it. "I thought you couldn't wait to be away from us."

"I can't wait to be _home_ , Lois," Elsie said. "You know how that is. It doesn't mean I don't care. It just means I miss my home and want to be there more than anything."

"What about Penelope?" Lois asked. "Does she know about the curse?"

"Pen?" Elsie asked, waving at the Yellow Lanterns. Penelope rushed to her side and tucked herself under Elsie's arm. "Tell Lois what you know about the curse?"

"I know that it chose to target me when I plugged my ring into Donal," Penelope said. "And I know that given a choice between bonding to Elsie and bonding to my ring, I'd much rather bond to Elsie." She looked up at Elsie and smiled shyly. "I don't think it's a curse, not really. I was always too scared to tell anyone what I felt for her. With the curse, I don't have to, because she feels it, too."

"Mmhmm," Elsie said, smiling. "I do. And I'll be right there, so you won't have to be afraid of Vicki or Esme. You'll be fine."

"Well," Lois said, shaking her head. "I'm not so sure I trust magic like that, and I definitely don't understand how you think you can be with three people at once, but I'm not going to argue about it while I'm in here. That's asking for more trouble than I want right now."

"You're learning," Elsie chuckled and bent down to kiss Lois' forehead, for all the world like a big sister giving her an indulgence. "Time for us to –"

Elsie and Penelope vanished, without even a "pop" to mark their passage. Lois rubbed her temples and groaned softly, already anticipating the explanation she would have to give to Clark and Diana.

_"And the news you're going to have to give to Selina,"_ a voice in her mind, that sounded suspiciously like Aphrodite's, reminded her.

Lois groaned and sank back into her seat. Distributing news and explanations could wait for later. Right now, she needed a drink.

 


End file.
